


For Keeps

by without_me



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_me/pseuds/without_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen moved to Tampa because he had to go somewhere, and this seems as good a place as any. The only problem is, he's never been any good at saying no to his sister. He doesn't want help for himself, but when Mac saddles him with a dog that clearly needs expert handling, he has to do something. Enter Jared, who seems able to develop rapport with any dog… or man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Keeps

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_meanttobe challenge, based on the prompt:
> 
> Casey Carmichael is an animal trainer who understands that, in his line of work, a man who is not in control doesn't last long. He rescues animals, he trains them for useful jobs, and then he moves on. He has only one rule: he doesn't get attached. But when he meets Lynn Sanders, he knows he's about to break all the rules... even his own.
> 
> Lynn Sanders came to Florida to rest and recover from a traumatic incident in her past. She does not want to work, she does not want to worry, and most of all she does not want to get involved--with her sister's pet-sitting business, with a cowardly, traumatized dog who needs her almost as much as she needs him, and most of all, with Casey Carmichael and his zoo. But love has a way of changing everything, and this time, it just might be for keeps.
> 
> *
> 
> With thanks to aproposofnothin, DarkEmeralds, topaz119, and my mongoose friend, for betas that made this much better than it would have been otherwise.
> 
> ***

Jensen knew that taking a rental too close to his sister’s place was a bad idea. He loves Mac, of course, and he’s glad to know _someone_ in town. Problem is, having grown up the baby of the family as well as the only girl had left her with an extremely broad idea of what she could or should expect from him, and since she’s still in the middle of setting up her pet-sitting business he’s pretty sure he’ll end up getting desperate calls for help for “emergencies” that are nothing of the sort. 

But the fact is, he likes that neighborhood. He’s visited her before, so it’s familiar. There’s a supermarket nearby that delivers, a drive-thru Starbucks not too far away, and best of all, Mac had seen a sign for a one-bedroom cottage and checked it out already, so all he has to do is show up, do a quick walk-through, and sign the lease. The cash-out from his stock options should be enough to live on for a while as long as he’s careful, and he doesn’t expect to have many expenses.

Everything goes fine for the first couple of weeks. The place is quiet; no real traffic noise, and he’s able to get by on his minimum dose of sleeping pills. He makes the effort to go out to dinner with Mac the first weekend he’s there, and they talk about her business, the guy she’s dating, the weather--basically anything and everything that isn’t Jensen or the reason he quit his job and moved across the continent to a place where Mac’s the only person he knows. 

He keeps himself busy unpacking--but not making so much progress that it keeps him from using the mess as an excuse not to have her over to see how barren the place is--and somehow the days go by. When she calls and asks him what he’s up to, he gives vague, noncommittal answers about getting to know the neighborhood (going outside to check the mailbox every few days counts, he thinks; there’s a woman across the street who’s often outside gardening and waves to him) and wrapping up some lingering projects for work (he answers emails when he gets them, sometimes, though he only makes himself check once a week or so). 

Still, he thinks everything is going pretty well, considering. He doesn’t expect anything more. He doesn’t want anything more. He certainly doesn’t deserve anything more.

*

“Please, Jensen, _please_ ,” Mac says. If he closes his eyes he can see her expression, a combination of hope and confidence that’s gotten her what she wanted ever since she was too little to reach the counter where Mom had put the cookies to cool.

Jensen sighs. He takes a deep breath and looks out his kitchen window at the small strip of grass that connects the front to the postage-stamp back yard. He shouldn’t have answered the phone. If he hadn’t answered, she would have left a message, and later he could have told her he’d been out doing something--something a normal person who wasn’t working would be doing during the day--and maybe she’d have found some other sucker in the meantime.

“Mac, I don’t want a dog,” he says firmly, even though years of experience say he should give in now rather than waste energy delaying the inevitable. Still, it’s the truth. He’s never wanted a dog. Especially now. Especially some dog that’s so gun-shy it can’t cope with the others at Mac’s house, a/k/a Pampered Pooches Doggie Day-Care.

“Please,” she says. “She won’t be any trouble. She’s small, and she’s well trained, really--she just needs a calmer environment, and…”

She trails off, but Jensen hears what she doesn’t say. You’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere calmer than his place. He doesn’t have any pets, doesn’t have people over--not even Mac; he gets together with her once a week for a meal like his parents expect him to, but the stress of going out is better than the stress of inviting her in. Once in a while he turns the TV on, but in general it’s just him and the four walls. Eventually, he knows, he needs to do more than this, but he’s not sure what eventually looks like, or why he should care.

“How long--” Oh, for crying out loud, he’s giving in already and they both know it. He smacks his forehead against the wall, three solid thumps, and then tries to salvage a partial victory by saying, “You can bring her over and let me take a look.” Look at what, he’s not sure, but it’s better than complete capitulation. “I’m not making any promises!”

“Oh, thank you, Jensen, you’re a life…” She recovers quickly, hardly hesitating even though the unspoken word echoes in his ears. “You’re the best big brother ever! I knew I could count on you. I’ll get her things together and we’ll be over in 15 minutes. Bye!” She hangs up before he can say anything else.

Daisy (why would anyone name a dog Daisy?) turns out to be small, as advertised--as far as he can tell, given that she’s curled into a tight, light-colored, shivering ball in the back of her soft-sided carrier. Mac says she’s a Maltipoo, whatever that means. Mac’s also carrying a large tote containing a dog bed, cans of dog food, bowls for food and water, and an assortment of dog toys, all of which she starts laying out in his living room as if she owned the place. When she pulls out a package labeled “Wee-Wee Pads,” Jensen feels like he has to at least make another try.

“I thought you said she was trained, Mac,” he says, trying to sound decisive rather than resigned. 

“She is! These are just in case, if you need to be out for a long time, or forget to let her out. I promise!”

It really is no use. At his best, Jensen was never a match for Mac’s focus and enthusiasm, and Jensen hasn’t been at his best for quite some time.

*

After Mac leaves, Jensen stares at the carrier for a while, wondering what to do now. Mac had left it open in the corner of the living room with some brief explanation about dens and feelings of security, but Daisy apparently doesn’t feel secure enough to come out of it at all. He thinks he’s supposed to be bonding with her or something, but she doesn’t seem any more excited about that than he is. He figures maybe she needs some alone time, so he goes in his bedroom for a while and thinks about rearranging his shirt drawer. When he comes back out she hasn’t moved.

He goes into the kitchen and fixes himself dinner, with similar results. He’s starting to get frustrated--it feels like he must be doing something wrong, but he doesn’t know what. He calls Mac for advice, but she just tells him he needs to be patient. And he can do that, all right, but he wonders how he’s supposed to know what’s being patient and what’s ignoring a real problem.

He spends most of the first evening that Daisy’s there checking obsessively to make sure she hasn’t made any messes or somehow gone off and gotten herself lost or injured. By the time he’s getting ready for bed, he realizes he probably needs to let her out to do her business or she surely _will_ make a mess and it won’t be her fault. He doesn’t want to set a precedent by putting out the pads. After a frustrating few minutes making coaxing noises and waving an open can of truly foul-smelling (and worse-looking) food outside the carrier’s open door, he finally picks the whole thing up and takes it outside, where he carefully but firmly dumps Daisy out on the lawn.

Now that he can see her, she seems to be about ten inches tall, fluffy, with some darker patches on a kind of creamy background. She looks around fearfully with big brown eyes. After a long few seconds huddled on the grass, though, she figures out what she’s out there to do and takes care of business so they can both go back inside. He guesses he should consider that a success.

The next day goes along about the same. Daisy eventually creeps out of the carrier far enough to eat and drink from the bowls Jensen placed right outside it, and a couple of the toys make their way inside the bag with her, but Jensen still doesn’t see her more than a few times all day long. Generally, he thinks he should be counting his blessings--this is about as close to not having a dog as it could be. But he also can’t help feeling like the little animal deserves better. He tries to get her to play with one of the toys out in the back yard, but she just crouches down and shivers, and after a few minutes he figures the merciful thing to do is let her go back to where she feels comfortable. He keeps checking on her to make sure she’s not sick or anything, but he gets the impression she’s happier when he leaves her alone.

*

“Mac, I don’t think this is working out.” He doesn’t even bother with a hello; he needs to make a strong start if he’s going to have any hope of getting through this conversation without giving in. It’s been the better part of a week, and the only progress has been that Daisy doesn’t tremble as much when he puts food in front of her. She still doesn’t want to come out and play, or even say hello.

It’s a little hard to tell over the yipping of the dogs at her place, but he figures she says something like “What’s wrong,” so he continues, telling her how he’s tried and tried but Daisy is still acting like someone’s going to smack her with a hammer at any moment. “You’re the professional,” he says, though it’s odd to think of his little sister that way. She deals with lots of dogs every day; she has to know more than he does. “I think you should come get her.”

“Jay, I can’t. I’m at maximum capacity. Besides, she needs calm, quiet surroundings, remember?”

He does remember. And he should have known Mac would have a reason this trial period wasn’t really a trial after all. He keeps at it for another couple of minutes, on principle, but he runs out of steam pretty quickly. In the end he says goodbye and goes back to sit on the couch and stare at the sad little carrier sitting in the corner of the room.

An hour or so of Internet research turns up a lot of information, some of which is contradictory and some of which is just outlandish--”aura therapy” for pets, seriously? But he does find a listing for an animal trainer and rescue fairly close by that says “Animal problems too big to handle? Don’t give up! Call Jared.” He figures it can’t hurt, so he picks up the phone.

He nearly hangs back up when, instead of a businesslike answer, he gets a quick “Hello?” It’s not an unpleasant voice, but it’s not what he was expecting.

“Um,” Jensen says. “Is this Another Chance?”

“Yes it is, how can I help you?” That sounds a little better, though the voice still sounds a bit impatient.

“Okay,” Jensen says. “Um, I’ve got a dog here, and I’ve tried everything I can think of, but I can’t get her to do--well, anything, and I was hoping--”

“I’m sorry--we’re full up,” the guy says. “But if you’ll give me some information about the animal’s breed, background, and problem behavior I may be able to suggest some other options you could try…”

“No,” Jensen says. “I mean, I wasn’t--she’s not even my dog.” Though, knowing Mac, it’s at least 50/50 that that’s the next bombshell she’s going to drop, how Daisy’s owners never came back or couldn’t keep her in their apartment or got abducted by aliens, god only knows. He should’ve said _no_ more effectively in the first place. Except for how that never works with Mac.

“She’s a stray?” the guy asks, clearly puzzled now. “If you’re trying to find the owner, you should call the county--”

“No, she’s not a stray,” Jensen says quickly, before the guy jumps to some other conclusion. “She’s, I don’t know--my sister runs this pet-sitting service, but this dog was too scared to be with the others so she asked me to take it, but it’s been nearly a week and it--she--doesn’t even come out of her carrier,” Jensen explains, “and I don’t _want_ a dog, but she seems so sad, so I looked online and your ad said you handle problem animals, so--I was calling for _advice_ , not to get rid of her.”

“You’re…” There’s silence for a second, then a short chuckle. “Oh, I see. Yes, that’s the goal here, in theory, but it’s not what I get most of the time. I tend to be the last-resort call.” 

Jensen kind of thought that was what he was doing--if this isn’t his last resort, he doesn’t know what is--but the guy continues, “The problems I usually get are, y’know, aggressive behavior. Dogs that are going to be put down because people are stupid and don’t know how to treat other living things decently. Not ones who are simply scared.” He pauses briefly, then adds, “Though, of course, sometimes frightened animals can be the most dangerous--fight or flight--so you need to be careful. She hasn’t bitten anyone, has she? I’m guessing you’d have mentioned it if she had.”

Jensen huffs a soft laugh at the idea. “No. Nothing like that. She’s growled once or twice, but it was more a whine than anything else. Mostly she cowers and shakes a lot, and I thought she’d get over it in a day or two, but she hasn’t, and I don’t know the first thing about dogs so I don’t know what to do.” 

“Aww, poor thing,” the guy says. “That does sound--what breed is she? And what’s her name? I’m Jared, by the way. I’m sorry, I’m doing this all backwards--I’m usually not this disorganized. You caught me at a--aw, hell, you don’t care about that. Anyway. Please go on, and I’ll stop interrupting.” 

Jensen tells him all he knows about Daisy--little as that is--and Jared makes sympathetic noises. “Poor little girl, so tiny and outside her usual surroundings. Not, I guess, that her usual surroundings were that good to begin with, sounds like. Well, I don’t know a ton about toy breeds--not my usual thing--and I think most of them tend to be a bit high-strung anyway. Okay, let’s see…” He pauses for a moment, then seems to reach a conclusion. “I can’t tell you to bring her over for a consultation,” he says. “I’ve got six here right now and the _smallest_ is about forty pounds. So… where are you? The least stressful thing for her would be for me to come to you, so maybe I can swing by tonight and meet her, see if I can give you some general tips. The basic principles are all the same regardless of breed or background: getting them to feel safe and then to trust you.”

Jensen really doesn’t want a stranger coming over--or anybody else, for that matter--but he looks at Daisy’s carrier sitting in the corner and figures he can deal with it. “How much will it cost?” he asks, on principle; he doesn’t have any experience with dog whisperers or whatever Jared is, and better safe than sorry.

“Initial consultations are free,” Jared says. “Though I’ll never say no to a donation. I operate on a shoestring and every little bit helps--but coming by to see what’s what, that’s just being friendly… or good business, take your pick.”

Between the two, Jensen votes for “good business.” 

Jared shows up a few minutes after six, tall and lanky with an easy smile and a strong handshake, and doesn’t even try to talk to Daisy until well past dark. Instead, he makes himself at home, poking around the bungalow, making a few comments mostly along the lines of, “Okay, good, nothing much here to spook her--might want to tie those blinds off so they don’t rattle in the wind, though,” and, “Hmm, I don’t know if I’d feed her so close to her crate; yeah, I know you were trying to be nice, but it reinforces the undesirable behavior…” He moves Daisy’s food and water bowls to the kitchen--which will make it easier to keep the floor clean, at least--and then takes a seat in the middle of the sofa and stretches his arms out to either side, nearly spanning the entire couch. “So, you said you got Daisy from your sister?” 

Jensen’s not all that comfortable with how comfortable Jared seems to be in his home, and he already told Jared pretty much everything he knows about Daisy on the phone. But for Daisy’s sake he goes over it all again.

Jared nods. “It sounds like she’s had a lot of upheaval recently. Her family--whoever they are and whatever that situation was like, at least it was something she understood--they went away, she’s away from her home, she was in a place with a lot of other dogs, almost certainly bigger than her… and now she’s here with you. She needs to get used to you--the sound of your voice, your scent, and then she’ll come around.” 

Jensen nods. That’s what he thought was supposed to have happened already. 

“Right now she knows her carrier’s safe,” Jared continues. “It’s her den, your sister was absolutely right about that. Next she needs to learn that this whole place is safe, and so are you. But it seems like things are pretty quiet around here--no noise at all.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Jensen says. “Can a place be too quiet for a dog? Mac said her place was too loud, so I figured, y’know, the quieter the better.” 

“You’re right, up to a point,” Jared says. “But if Daisy doesn’t hear your voice regularly, how can she get used to it? How can she feel like you’re someone she can trust if you’re an unknown? And then when you do talk--on the phone, or whatever--it’s scary because it’s so unusual.”

Jensen nods again. It makes a certain amount of sense.

“Luckily, no one ever accused me of being too quiet,” Jared says with a grin that pops a dimple in his cheek. “So, you’re new in town, huh?” he continues. Safe bet, Jensen has to admit, given that the house looks about as lived-in as the average Motel 6, and while he’s stashed most of the boxes he hasn’t unpacked in the closets there are still a few serving as a makeshift coffee table. “D’you like baseball? Planning to hit any spring training games?” Jared asks.

Baseball isn’t Jensen’s favorite sport and he certainly isn’t planning to go to any games, but he’d much rather talk about that than about the reason for his move. He lets Jared lead the conversation, and makes non-confrontational noises while Jared waxes lyrical about the beauty of the pre-season. When that topic starts to peter out, Jensen mentions that he’s been re-watching The X-Files, and that gets Jared started on TV shows and movies, and before long it occurs to Jensen that it’s dinnertime and Jared shows no signs of leaving. 

“Shh, look,” Jared says, his tone not changing, but nodding slightly toward the corner where Daisy’s carrier is. And when Jensen looks, there’s a little furry face peeking partway out the carrier’s open door--just a nose resting on two paws, really, but it’s more of her than he’s seen by her choice since she arrived. He grins at Jared, and Jared beams. “It’s only a matter of time,” he says. “Now, I don’t want to rush things, and I don’t encourage feeding table scraps--there are better things to use as treats if she’s food-motivated--but if she’s anywhere near as hungry as me, maybe we can get her out even farther. Have you tried Luigi’s yet? Their chicken parm sandwich is worth every mile I have to run to work it off. And I’m pretty sure they deliver to this neighborhood.”

Jensen is hesitant about letting Jared stay, eating with him. But Daisy’s _looking at him_ , and not entirely as if she’s afraid he’s going to do something terrible to her at any moment. “I--Luigi’s?” he says. “No, I don’t know about it.”

Jared ends up staying until nearly eleven, and it’s not that hard at all. They polish off the sandwiches and split a Greek salad, and Jensen pulls a couple of beers out of the fridge since it seems inhospitable not to, and sure enough, by the time they’re toying with the remains of the delivery order, Daisy has crept out of her carrier and, cautiously, come into the kitchen to eat some of the food in her bowl. At Jared’s direction, Jensen doesn’t react to her presence, carries on their conversation like nothing was happening, but once she’s lapped up some water and scurried back to her carrier Jared quietly high-fives him and then gets up to rinse the beer bottles and put the sandwich wrappers in the trash. 

Over after-dinner coffee, Jared tells Jensen about his business: about the dogs he takes in, dropped off by people who found them or can’t handle them, or rescued from shelters where they were going to be killed. “I pretty much start off like you are here with Daisy,” he says. “You gotta give them a place where they can feel safe and someone they can trust. Then, once they come out of their shells, you evaluate them and see what they’re good at. There’s a lot of different things dogs can do--like search and rescue for ones that are great scent trackers and have a lot of energy you need to channel.” Jensen gets the impression Jared could talk for days on this topic, but he doesn’t mind listening. It’s fairly interesting, and it keeps him from having to hold up his own end of the conversation. “Calmer dogs can be therapy animals for people who are sick, or live in senior homes, stuff like that,” Jared says. “There’s also some need for legitimate guard dogs, though I tend to leave those to other folks--that kind of training’s not really my thing.” 

It all sounds exhausting to Jensen, despite the fact that Jared says he has a couple of part-time assistants who keep him from having to work 365 days a year. Still, even though Jared gets a little wistful when he talks about specific animals he’s worked with and then said goodbye to, it’s clear he loves his job. By the time they finish up, Jensen is yawning and Jared apologizes for staying so long, but points at Daisy’s nose and front paws still poking out from the open door of her carrier and gives Jensen a thumbs-up on his way out the door.

*

The next day, Jensen tries to remember Jared’s advice and build on last night’s progress. At least Daisy is going out in the back yard now without having to be dragged, but she still shivers while she’s out there, mild Florida weather notwithstanding, and she retreats back to the carrier the rest of the time.

For a dog he didn’t want and rarely sees, Jensen is expending an awful lot of mental energy without much payoff. He keeps at it for a few days more before calling Mac again. 

“This still isn’t working,” he says. “But also, I’m concerned about why Daisy’s so traumatized to begin with. Did her owners say anything about that?”

There’s a long pause, and then a sigh. “Well, here’s the thing,” she says. “She actually didn’t so much get dropped off for boarding.”

Jensen scrubs his hand over his eyes. He saw this coming--he did--but what could he have done? “Okay,” he says, keeping his voice calm. “What _actually_ did happen?”

Another sigh. “The vet I work with--the one who lets me put my fliers up in the waiting room--called me to see if I knew anyone who could take her. She’d been abandoned, and they were keeping her there because there was nowhere else to put her, but she had to live in a cage all the time and there were other dogs barking and I…” 

“You thought it was better for her to be with _me_? A guy who doesn’t know anything at all about dogs? I love you, Mac, but in what way was that a good idea?”

She’s quiet for a long time, and finally she says, “Jensen. You’re the kindest, gentlest guy I know. Dogs aren’t rocket science. I figured, if anyone could be patient with her and give her time to get her personality back, it would be you.”

He’s still not sure she’s right, but it’s hard to be angry with her in the face of a statement like that.

“She is adorable, isn’t she?” she says. “Please, just give it some more time. Things are getting a little better, aren’t they? I know you’ll love her if you give her a chance.”

He thinks it would be nice if Daisy gave _him_ a chance, and he doesn’t _want_ to love her. But he saves his breath. What’s done is done.

He did give Jared a donation the night he came over, so he feels like he isn’t asking too much when he calls for more advice later in the week. “I know you said it would take time, and all, but she still seems so stressed out,” Jensen says when Jared answers. “And it’s not my fault--I mean, I’m not the one who abused her in the first place--but it can’t be good for her to be so unhappy.”

“You’ve gotta be patient,” Jared says. “Some dogs, it can take years. Ones that were trained for fighting, beaten, taught that everyone’s their enemy. Now, obviously, a little nubbin like Daisy, nothing like that happened to her, but she sure hasn’t been treated well in the past,” he says. 

“My god,” Jensen says. “How do you know nothing like that happened to her? Not the fighting, of course, but…”

Jared doesn’t answer for a minute. Then, quietly, he says, “She wouldn’t have survived, Jensen. A little dog like that, they’re fragile. She’s been neglected, for sure, probably yelled at--but she hasn’t been beaten. That’s not something you need to worry about.”

Jensen finds he can’t say anything at all, and in a moment Jared continues.

“The good news is, what you’re giving her right now, the calm and the kindness and the support she can rely on--that’s all she needs. That and time. It’s only been a few days; this is a long-term process. You can’t expect to change survival behaviors overnight.”

Time wasn’t something Jensen ever meant to give a dog. And he certainly never meant to have another creature relying on him. But when the food Mac brought over that first night runs out he buys more, and he gets another tiny dog bed to put on the floor by the sofa, and day by day he sees Daisy more and sees her trembling less, and it actually feels pretty good.

*

Jensen doesn’t expect to talk to Jared again. He hardly talks to anyone, after all, so it’s not so much a matter of them not running in the same circles as Jensen not _having_ a circle. When his phone rings he’s distracted and answers without looking. The voice on the other end isn’t a member of his family, so he assumes it’s a telemarketer, says “Not interested, please put me on your Do Not Call list, thank you, goodbye,” and hangs up. When the ringing starts again almost immediately, he answers with a sharp, “What?” only to hear Jared’s laugh. 

“Not much for idle conversation?” Jared asks, and Jensen feels himself blush at his rudeness. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says awkwardly. “I wasn’t expecting--I mean, obviously I didn’t realize…” He shakes his head. “Are you--Daisy is…” He hesitates. _Doing well_ would be an exaggeration, but she’s better than she was, for sure. “Coming along, I think.”

“No--I mean, that’s great--you have to be patient, like I said. I’m sure she knows, now, that you’re completely different than whoever had her before, but still, it takes time to get over bad stuff, and it’s not like you can explain it to her, right?”

Jensen grinds his teeth together, clenching the phone tight to keep from hanging up again. Jared doesn’t know; this isn’t some pointed observation or judgment; Jared’s talking about the _dog_ , for crying out loud.

“…wondering if you’d want to go,” Jared’s saying, and Jensen thinks he must have missed something.

“I’m sorry, what?”

This time he listens as Jared explains that he has a friend, Brian, who’s in a band that’s playing that weekend at a club nearby. “They just finished their first record, so it’s kind of a big thing for them, and I thought you might--” Jared says, and Jensen barely manages to grit out a “No, I can’t, sorry, gotta go,” before thumbing the phone off and throwing it down. It clatters on the countertop and Daisy flinches from where she was curled on the doggie bed, running back to the safety of her carrier. Which makes Jensen feel even shittier than usual.

Jensen’s not in a much better mood the next day, but he’s almost out of milk for his coffee and he doesn’t want to come up with a whole delivery order, so he sighs and goes to the grocery store. When he sees Jared walking toward him near the checkout, he thinks ordering extra paper towels and canned goods might have been the better option. His immediate instinct is to bolt, but he manages to overcome it. 

“Hey, glad I ran into you,” Jared says, and Jensen mumbles a hello. Jared waits a moment, probably expecting Jensen to apologize for hanging up on him the day before. Jensen’s mother would be ashamed of him, but he can’t get the words out. After a few seconds’ silence, Jared flashes a tight grin and says, “Hmm, little awkward, but okay. Was it--I’m sorry if I was out of line, asking you out. I just had a really good time talking with you the other day and I thought maybe we could go hang out, listen to some good music, blow off a little steam. But if you’re not interested, that’s cool too.”

Jensen shakes his head. “It’s okay. I…” _I’m not interested_ , is what he means to say. He doesn’t want to get to know people here. He’s not ready for that. But Jared seems as impossible to say no to as Mac is. “Not music,” he finally says. “I’m not--I can’t--but maybe something else, if you want. You were talking about spring training, maybe we could go to a game sometime. Or…” He takes another look at Jared’s expression, and continues more warily. “When you say ‘blow off a little steam,’ what exactly did you mean?” Jared hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy who was always thinking with his dick, but you never know. People can be different in their work than in their personal lives, and he doesn’t want to end up in a situation where Jared’s expecting something he’s not willing to give.

Jared laughs, brief but wide open. “That actually wasn’t what I meant, though my friends would be astonished to hear it,” he says, giving Jensen an appreciative look. “But sure, I’d be happy to remedy your woeful lack of respect for America’s Pastime, even if the only action happening is on the field.”

“Okay,” Jensen says. This is probably a bad idea, but he is supposed to try to get out more, after all.

*

Jared gets tickets to a Yankees-Pirates game the following week and picks Jensen up at the bungalow, and despite Jensen’s qualms the whole thing is surprisingly comfortable. The crowd isn’t too huge, the atmosphere more laid-back than Jensen remembers from the occasional regular-season game he’s gone to in the past. They get hot dogs and beers and Jared buys a program, allegedly to keep score. Jensen tries to pay attention as Jared explains the markings, but he’s not entirely sure what the point is. He can enjoy sitting in the sun and watching the guys at bat without worrying about chicken-scratches on a little form. Sports-geekiness aside, Jared is an enjoyable seatmate, good-naturedly ogling the cutest players and sharing a bag of peanuts. By the end of the afternoon Jensen’s a little bit sunburned and a whole lot more relaxed than he can remember being in a long time. Well. Since.

He feels his mood turn, feels himself shut down as he realizes he’d forgotten, for a few hours, just let himself be, like nothing had ever happened, and when Jared says “Jensen? Earth to Jensen…” he bites back the instinctive--and unwarranted--cutting remark and makes himself take a breath.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. “I need--I need to go home now. It’s not anything you did, it’s just, I need to be alone.” Jensen wants to leave by himself, walk home, be _apart_ \--but that’s stupid. He can handle this, he just needs to get home. “Can we please go, and not talk? I know I’m being rude and I’m sorry, but…” He shrugs.

Jared stares at him a moment, and Jensen can see all the perfectly reasonable questions he wants to ask, but after a few heartbeats Jared tilts his head a little and says, “Okay.” He leads the way back to his SUV and gets in; starts it up and drives back to Jensen’s without another word. 

As Jensen is opening the car door to get out, Jared clears his throat. “Whatever’s going on, I hope it gets better soon,” he says. “And I hope when you’re feeling better, we can talk about it.” There’s a hint of an _I deserve an explanation_ in his tone, but Jensen nods and puts it off until later.

Jensen’s house is calm; quiet. He wants to not-think; he wants to not-be, but he’s been out for hours and while he left a pad out for Daisy he can see she hasn’t used it. So he opens the back door and calls softly to her, and she scurries outside the same as any other time. Maybe he should bow to the inevitable and get a dog door put in, though that’s probably silly if he’s not planning to stay long, and he’s not sure how the owners would feel about it. As it is, she pees and then takes a few tentative sniffs around the small yard before rushing back inside to the safety of her bed. 

The similarities between what she just did and his afternoon are too obvious to overlook, but Jensen doesn’t want to think about them right now. He has no idea what happened to her to make her so afraid of the world. He knows exactly what happened to him, and it’s not the same thing at all. It’s not something that some softly spoken words and gentle petting can fix. It’s not something anyone can fix, because Jason’s still in a box in the ground and there’s not a damn thing that’s ever going to change that. It’s still early, barely sunset, but he takes one of his sleeping pills and pulls the covers up over his head. There’s some kibble in Daisy’s bowl, and she can survive on that until morning.

*

Jared calls the next afternoon. Jensen could let it go to voicemail, of course, but he figures it’s better to get it over with. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t expect that to happen, though maybe I should have. At any rate, I’m sorry you had to deal with it. With me.”

“I guess this is where I’m supposed to say it’s none of my business,” Jared says, “and we can do that if you want.” He pauses, and Jensen wonders what’s coming next--whether it’s _but you owe me_ or _and in that case so long_ or simply _man, you are fucked up_. He also sort of wonders why he cares. But the silence drags on and eventually Jensen finds himself speaking.

“It was a friend of mine,” he says. “My best friend. Jason. He died last fall in an accident, and it was my fault. And yesterday I… I was out there having fun, not thinking about anything, feeling _good_ , and he’s never going to have that again. And blah blah, shutting myself away won’t change that, and he’d want me to go on with my life, and whatever, but it doesn’t feel _right_. So. That’s my story.”

The line stays silent another moment and Jensen wonders if he just spilled his guts to a dropped call, but then Jared says, “Wow. I… That doesn’t sound like… I mean, I…” Another pause. “I’m sorry. And I’d like to hear more about him, sometime, if you want to tell me. Sometimes talking about stuff, y’know. Helps. A little.”

Jensen doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to do anything or want anything or _be_ anything. He wants to go back, wants it _not to have happened_ , wants not to have to live the rest of his life remembering Jason as… body parts, rather than the happy, laughing, talented guy he was. Blood and bone and, Jesus, he’ll see Jason’s severed foot fly through the air in his nightmares forever. 

“I don’t know,” is what he says. “Maybe. The thing is, he loved music, wanted to quit his day job and try to make a career of it, that’s why I didn’t want to go--”

“Oh,” Jared says. “Brian’s gig. Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think you should cut yourself off from music forever if it’s something you like, but I get why it would be painful for you.”

“Anyway,” Jensen says. “Like I said, that’s me. Not exactly the most enjoyable guy to hang out with.”

“I don’t know,” Jared says. “I think we’ve been doing pretty well, all things considered.” There’s a pause, not quite long enough to be awkward, and then Jared says, “So, I was wondering if I could come by and see Daisy sometime. I was going to ask yesterday, but, well. Anyway, from what you told me yesterday it sounds like she’s doing a lot better with you, and that’s great! It’ll probably take longer for her to warm up with other people, though, which is why I thought it would be good to check in and maybe give you some more tips.”

Jensen looks over to where Daisy is curled on her bed, head on her paws but ears pricked up. “I, um. Okay. If you want to. I mean, I appreciate all your help with her. I still need to give Mac a piece of my mind, but I guess the deed is done and I need to make the best of it.” 

“Well,” Jared says, “I guess some of that’s between you and your sister, man. But in the end it’s up to you how you want to handle this. Do you just want to help Daisy get back on her feet and then find her a forever home? Because that’s an honorable thing, it’s not like you’re the asshole who abandoned her. If you don’t want to sign on for all the responsibility of owning a dog, I can… well, I can’t understand it, because man, dogs are the greatest! But I can respect it. If you don’t want the long-term commitment, then the responsible thing--the _right_ thing to do is to get her into shape so some other person can give her the love and the stability she deserves.” He stops a moment and chuckles. “Sorry. I guess we know my soapbox gets a lot of use.”

“I suppose you see this kind of thing all the time,” Jensen says. “Dogs that are abandoned or whatever. Mistreated.”

“Only every day,” Jared says. “I’d say it’s a good thing, or I’d be out of a job--except I’d _love_ to have to find a different job if it meant people would stop being such shitheads to innocent animals that only want to make them happy.”

“That’s great,” Jensen says. “I mean, not that people are shitheads. But that you care so much. It must be great to do something that matters that much to you.” He pauses, then makes himself finish the thought out loud. “Jason was like that. About music, I mean. It didn’t matter if it was the easy thing or the safe thing--it was what he loved and he was going to go for it come hell or high water.”

“I can’t tell other people how to live,” Jared says after a moment. “I get it--people have responsibilities, families or whatever, and you’ve got to pay the bills. But for me, there’s no other option. I couldn’t sleep at night if I had some office job and knew these dogs were out there and I wasn’t even trying to help them. And music--it’s not exactly the same thing, but it makes the world better, y’know?”

They chat a little while longer, but talking about Jason always leaves Jensen feeling raw--at best--so he finishes the conversation as quickly as he can and says goodbye. Not without Jared reiterating his request-slash-offer to hear more about Jason, though. Which Jensen reminds himself is meant kindly.

Jared seems so nice. _Too_ nice, really. Certainly too nice for a basket case who can’t get through a night without sleeping pills or nightmares, and usually both.

*

The phone call leaves Jensen unsettled all evening. Jared hadn’t said anything wrong, hadn’t said anything Jensen didn’t already know, but it still all rattles around in his head while he fixes dinner for himself and opens a can for Daisy. She eats happily, but he pushes his food around on the plate until it gets cold. He knows he needs to eat before he takes his pills, so he forces himself to eat half of it before throwing the rest out.

He tries to coax Daisy into the bedroom with him to sleep--not that he wants a dog sleeping with him, even (or perhaps especially) a dog the size of one of his feet, but it seems like a good thing for her to learn, maybe. It doesn’t go very well; even though he puts her little bed up there on top of his covers with them, she shivers and whines until finally he gives up and takes it back out to the living room where she’s used to it. 

Once he turns out the lights he tosses and turns, not really thinking about Jason but not able to put thinking aside enough to sleep, even with his pills. He finally loses consciousness sometime after 3, and the one thing he’s thankful for in the morning as he waits for his coffee to brew (other than the existence of coffee itself, but that goes without saying) is that, for a change, he didn’t dream.

When Jared comes over, later that morning, Jensen feels a hundred years old. Jared looks, as usual, like he’s never had a bad dream in his life. He knocks quietly at the door and comes in with a big smile for Jensen and a soft hello to Daisy. “Wow, she’s standing her ground, that’s great!” he says. She’s not standing, actually, but she is still on the dog bed by the sofa, out in the open, and when he approaches her and crouches down with one hand out, she hesitates a moment but then sniffs it cautiously. He turns to look up at Jensen. “She’s made a ton of progress, Jensen. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I haven’t _done_ anything,” Jensen says, but it still feels good. He likes to think he’s making someone’s life a little bit better, even if it’s only a dog’s. “So, what did you want to do? Do you want me to do anything with her, do you want me to leave you alone with her…?”

Jared stands up, laughing, though he keeps it quieter than usual. “It’s not a therapy session--or, I don’t know, maybe it is, but there’s no doctor-patient confidentiality or anything. We’ll have to play it by ear, see what she’s up for, but I think we should work on starting to get her ready to go outside. For walks, I mean. Out where there are other people, other animals. It’s a big step, but it’s something she’s got to learn eventually. Have you tried putting a leash on her at all?”

Jensen hasn’t. There was a leash in the bag with all the other stuff Mac brought over the first day, though, so he goes and finds it, and Daisy lets him clip it to her collar without protest. But when he opens the front door, she whines and heads in the opposite direction, pulling the leash taut until Jared closes the door again. He doesn’t seem upset or surprised, though Jensen feels like he’s done something wrong. Again. 

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Jared says. “I expected this, though every now and then they surprise you.”

Jensen holds the end of the leash awkwardly. “Should I… what should I do?”

“She goes out in the back okay, right? Never had a problem with that?”

“Right,” Jensen says. “I mean, not after the first day she was here. When Mac first dropped her off she wouldn’t get out of the carrier at all, and I was afraid she was going to make a mess in there, so I carted the whole thing out back and kind of… dumped her out. Gently! I did it gently!”

Jared chuckles. “Well, that’s not quite the method I’d have recommended, but it seems to have worked out okay. The front is scarier, though--it’s not a busy street, but still, there’s a lot more going on out there than in your little yard. So. We go high tech.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small zip-loc filled with little tan blobs. “I had to cut these up special--the ones I usually use are way too big for her. All-natural, high-quality protein, never failed yet.”

He opens the pouch and pulls out a treat, then crouches and holds it out to see if Daisy will take it from his hand. She comes close but stops a few inches away, and he nods and tosses it to the floor for her. “You have to be careful with little dogs like this,” he says quietly as she gobbles it down. “Give them the smallest bits possible, or they’ll be fat as ticks and no good to themselves or anyone else.”

Now that Daisy’s gotten a taste of whatever dog-manna Jared brought, she’s definitely interested in what he’s selling. He sits on the floor by the front door and puts another treat on the floor near him, and she looks wary but approaches, ears pricked up for any sign of a threat.

“This could take a while,” Jared says, “but it’s basically the technique you’ll use to teach her to do anything you want. Little, incremental steps to get her to make positive associations. No pressure, no reprimands if she’s not ready to do something--positive, positive, positive.” Once Daisy is sitting close to him, alert for any further possibility of treats, Jared reaches behind him and cracks the front door open. She retreats a few steps, but keeps watching him, and sure enough, when he holds out another treat, she comes forward to take it.

By the time Jared leaves, Daisy will take food from his hand in the doorway with the door wide open, though she still eyes the outside with suspicion. “She’s making great progress,” he says. “You can keep going later on if you want, after she’s digested some--you’ll want to go easy on her regular food today, no sense stuffing her. Or wait until tomorrow. This isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.”

“Thank you,” Jensen says. “I have no idea what I’m doing here, and I really appreciate your help. I probably would’ve just kept her in the house for the rest of her life.”

“You’re doing great,” Jared says. “You’re giving her a place she knows she’s safe. That’s the biggest thing anyone could possibly do for her. All the rest will come, in time.”

*

Jared comes back a few days later, after he’s done with his regular work for the day, and Jensen’s proud to show him that Daisy will now go out the front door on the leash, though she still flinches and pulls back if there’s any activity out there--a car or another person. Jensen’s also used the same technique to coax her onto his bed with him, though he doesn’t tell Jared about that.

“I got sandwiches today at the deli,” Jensen says. “Do you have time? I figure Daisy isn’t the only one who needs to eat, right?”

“I’m not going to turn down food,” Jared says, grinning.

Over dinner, Jared tells Jensen more about his business and some of the cases he’s dealt with. “Hoarders, man, those are the saddest. You can’t even be angry at them, because they’re so messed up themselves and they don’t _mean_ to be doing harm. It’s a disease, not something they can control. But, god. I’ve seen too many animals have to be put down from hoarding. The dirt, the crowded conditions…” He shudders and looks at what’s left of his sandwich. “Sorry, not exactly dinnertime conversation,” he says, and takes a steadying breath. “Most of the time, my job is great. I guess, in a way what I do is the healthy version of hoarding. I mean, I don’t keep them; that’s the difference. But I try to take in as many as I can, rather than a regular person who can adopt one or two or maybe three dogs--I get to help dozens. Hundreds, over the years.”

“Isn’t it hard?” Jensen asks. “Saying goodbye all the time?”

Jared hesitates before answering. “It was, at first,” he says. “I don’t think of it that way anymore. It’s more like, they’ve healed, grown into the dogs they should have been from the start, and now it’s time for the next stage of their lives with someone else. I guess it’s kind of how I look at life in general. Nothing stands still; you just have to enjoy the moment and then go create more moments to enjoy.”

That seems awfully sad, Jensen thinks, but then again, what does he know about living a happy life?

*

Now that Daisy will go outside, Jensen feels morally obligated to take her for walks--short ones, to start with, punctuated by tiny treats when she successfully conquers dangerous obstacles like other people, or a car driving by. Daisy must have been trained to walk on a leash before things went bad with her former owners, because she picks that part up right away. 

He quickly learns that other people with dogs seem to expect him to talk to them, or at least say hello, though Daisy’s shyness is a good excuse to keep conversations to a minimum. Before long, he’s familiar with most of the neighborhood; knows which blocks should be avoided (noisy dogs or people) and which are safer. The first time he has to walk around in public carrying a baggie with dog doo in it is awkward, but nobody else seems to think twice about it, and he’s certainly willing to do his part to keep the streets from being the mine fields he remembers from his childhood. 

He sees people walking big dogs, and thinks about Jared and what his life must be like. He doesn’t even know how many dogs Jared takes care of at once--more than Jensen wants to think about, for sure, and not even the same ones all the time but constant turnover with new ones coming in and others being adopted out. So much noise, so much chaos. And Jensen doesn’t even want to think about the smell. Jared’s always been clean when Jensen has seen him, but it’s hard to imagine a whole kennel not smelling pretty rank. 

“Not the right environment for you, huh, little girl?” he says, bending down to ruffle the silky fur atop Daisy’s tiny head. “No, we’re better off by ourselves. Peace and quiet, just like we like it.”

*

“Hey, how’s it going?” Jared asks, when Jensen answers the phone. 

“Really good,” Jensen says. “Today Daisy actually growled a little when another dog was trying to get fresh with her! I mean, I don’t want her being aggressive, but when you compare it to how she was a few weeks ago, I think it’s great--don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. You’ve done a great job with her,” Jared says. “You should be proud.”

“I’m not doing that much,” Jensen says. “I mean, you showed me the stuff with the treats, I’ve been doing that, but the rest is all her.”

“You’ve been paying attention and being patient with her, responding to how she’s feeling,” Jared says. “That’s pretty much all there is to it, but a lot of people don’t want to bother.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a lot of other responsibilities to worry about,” Jensen says. “Mac still shouldn’t have roped me into this the way she did, but I guess her dastardly plan wasn’t entirely off-base.”

“Maybe she knows you better than you think,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Jensen admits. “Or maybe she just got lucky. So, um, thanks for checking in. I guess you probably have other stuff you need to be doing.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jared says. “But actually, I wasn’t calling to ask about Daisy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was wondering, um, if you’d like to go walk the dogs together sometime. Sort of a… play date, for both of us.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t bring all the dogs, of course. Only one, who’s very well trained and super gentle. He’ll be leaving soon, he’s just finishing up with me before he goes to his new job.”

“Things went so well last time we went out that you want to do it again?” Jensen asks.

Jared takes a breath. “Well… yeah,” he says. “I had a good time with you, right up until you stopped having a good time. I’d like to get to know you better--we tend to talk mostly about Daisy, which makes sense, because she’s a great little girl, but I’m sure you’re interesting, too.”

Jensen doesn’t answer for a minute. He’s not so sure talking about himself is a good idea. There’s not a whole lot to talk about.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Jared says. “I’ll still help with Daisy, if you want--though it seems like you’re doing fine on your own.”

“I do,” Jensen says. “But--I don’t know.” It’s too fucked up. _He’s_ too fucked up. He doesn’t know what Jared wants, but he’s pretty sure he can’t give it to him.

“All right,” Jared says. “Just think about it, okay? If you decide you want to, let me know. No pressure.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says. 

*

Jensen doesn’t really plan to think about getting together with Jared. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Jared’s company, and it’s certainly not that he doesn’t find Jared attractive. But he’s not looking for enjoyment and attraction. He’s not looking for anything. Just for the days to go by and time to pass and eventually… he’s not sure what’s supposed to happen eventually, but he figures he’ll find out when it does.

As he goes about his day, though, he does end up thinking about it. Thinking about Jared, anyway. 

He gives Daisy an extra-long walk, then cleans the kitchen and makes a grocery list. After dinner, he even finds himself looking in the closet where he stacked all the as-yet-unopened boxes, and he pulls the top one down and puts it by the couch to go through while he watches TV.

That night he lies in bed and realizes he’s still thinking about Jared, and when he finally sleeps his dreams are confused and jumbled. 

In the morning he’s tired, but he takes Daisy out for a walk anyway, the morning air pleasantly cool despite the ever-present humidity. He should probably get a treadmill or something if he’s going to be here through the summer; there’s no way he’s going to want to do more than minimal outdoor exercise once the mugginess gets oppressive. Luckily Daisy’s so small that even a short walk is quite a trek for her, plus she can play in the house where it’s cooler. Jensen doesn’t know how susceptible small dogs are to the heat; he’ll have to ask Jared if there’s anything he should watch out for.

It occurs to him that he could probably ask Mac that. Somehow he’s gotten used to calling Jared every time he has a question. And he’d miss being able to do that if he couldn’t anymore.

So, okay. He can get together with Jared. He can even talk about himself, if that’s what Jared wants. Though he doesn’t understand why. 

*

Jensen’s a little on edge, but he tries to keep it under control so it won’t upset Daisy. Jared said he thinks Daisy is ready to start interacting more with other dogs, and he promised the one he’s bringing is no threat.

Still, when Jared appears on the doorstep next to a big brown dog that looks like it could eat Daisy in two bites, Jensen hesitates. “Are you sure?” he asks, keeping the door mostly closed so Daisy won’t see the behemoth and run.

“Yup,” Jared promises. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Earl first, and then he and Daisy can get acquainted.”

The dog at Jared’s side does seem pretty docile, Jensen has to admit. At Jared’s urging, Jensen lets Earl sniff his hand and then pets him, the dog sitting politely throughout. Okay, maybe Daisy won’t be in too much danger, he thinks. Hell, of course she won’t be; Jared knows a hundred times more about dogs than Jensen does, and he wouldn’t bring one that was dangerous. Jensen calls Daisy to him and attaches her leash, and Jared steps back off the front stoop to give the two of them room to get outside without feeling threatened.

Daisy, too, is initially hesitant about the newcomer. She likes Jared, though, and Earl is a perfect gentleman. They set off down the street toward the little park Jensen has gotten used to visiting with her. 

“So, did you see The Following last night?” Jared asks. “Do you watch that?” Jensen shakes his head. “It’s dumb, and can be pretty gory--it’s about this serial-killer cult leader--but Kevin Bacon is… well, Kevin Bacon, and he has this cute FBI guy who’s all puppy-dogging after him--though this season they’re both kind of out of control, which can be fun, too… Wow, Daisy’s doing great, isn’t she? Good girl.” He maneuvers Earl past a lamppost and goes on. “I’m really going to miss this guy. But I’ve got a new dog, just arrived last week, who’s going to take a lot of my time, so it’s good that Earl’s almost ready for his forever home. It’s nice to be able to spend some easy time with him, like this--when he first came to me, you wouldn’t have recognized him. Like I keep telling you, it’s a slow process, but little by little, it works. Ugh, speaking of slow processes, do you have any close girl friends who’ve gotten married? Because my friend Sandy, she’s driving me fucking nuts.” 

Jared changes topics like he’s chasing bumblebees, and it’s a little exhausting, but it means Jensen doesn’t have to talk much, which is a plus. “I keep telling her that just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I actually care what color the napkins are at the reception, but she keeps on going,” Jared says. “Oh, there’s a bicycle coming, make sure Daisy doesn’t--hey, good, that’s right, keep her close by you but don’t act like she needs to be afraid. Perfect. You’re a natural,” he says. “It’s hard to believe you haven’t had dogs before. You’ve made her life so much better, Jensen, I hope you can see that.”

Jensen can see that Daisy’s doing better, obviously--she still spooks easily, but she’s a far cry from the cowering mess she was the day Mac brought her over. But he hadn’t thought about it as anything he’d done. Something in Jared’s tone, though--the heartfelt gratitude he so freely expresses--makes Jensen’s throat clench up, his ears burn. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I--I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” Jared’s arm brushes his as they walk, fingers not quite tangling, and Jensen feels something inside him unclench the slightest bit. He clears his throat. It’s not right to let Jared carry the whole conversation, even though he seems perfectly comfortable doing it. “So… you said, before, that you wanted to know more about Jason.” It’s not that he’d rather talk about Jason than about himself. But there’s really no way to talk about himself without talking about Jason.

“Uh-huh,” Jared says. “I mean, if you want to tell me. But it sounds like he was a pretty special guy. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe talking could help you focus on some of the good memories rather than the bad ones?”

“I don’t know about that,” Jensen says. More likely, it will just let Jared know what a fuck-up Jensen is. But maybe he owes it to Jason to try. “We’d known each other since high school,” he starts. This part is safe; this part is easy. “He was the new kid, moved in from Virginia, and you know how it is with new kids, either they’re outcasts or they’re the coolest thing ever. Jason was so friendly and outgoing, good at everything--he played baseball and soccer and did drama and still got good grades--he was friends with everybody in no time. And not only the popular kids--he was just plain _nice_. His family went to the same church mine did, so we were in youth group together… all of a sudden it was like I had a new brother. Only better than mine, because he was the same age as me.” 

It _is_ nice remembering back that far, Jensen realizes. And it can’t make what happened hurt any more than it already does. “A lot of the time with friendships like that, they burn out fast,” he continues, “but we stayed joined at the hip all through graduation and on to college--we both went to Texas A &M.”

“Was he--” Jared pauses. “I mean, were the two of you…”

Jensen shakes his head. “No, Jason was straight as an arrow. Married his college sweetheart; they met in their freshman core course and never looked back. They were ridiculously in love, like some Hollywood fairy tale.” He loses his breath a moment, remembering Krista’s ravaged face when he got to her place that night; how she’d begged him to say the cops had been wrong. He hasn’t talked to Krista in months, though he’d been best man at their wedding and good friends for years before that. What could he say that she would want to hear?

He realizes he’s stopped walking; that Daisy is looking up at him with concern; that Jared is standing close, fingertips brushing his arm. “I’m sorry,” Jared says, and Jensen feels the tears on his cheeks.

Jesus. Jensen thought he was over this. Not the pain, obviously, but the public breakdowns at least. His heart starts to pound. He’s blocks from his house; this could be bad. He’s still breathing, though, and Jared doesn’t seem particularly bothered. Concerned, certainly, but not embarrassed by the display. Jensen leans down, hands on his thighs, closing his eyes and trying to block everything out. Just breathe. In and out, not too fast or too deep. The dizziness is ebbing, and with his eyes shut Jensen is aware of the warmth of Jared’s body next to his. It feels comforting, almost like a blanket.

“It’s okay,” Jared is saying; low and calm. “Don’t worry; you’re safe, everything’s fine. Just take it easy for a few minutes. You’re going to be okay.”

If only that were true.

Jared guides Jensen over to a nearby park bench. Jensen is shaking, his skin clammy with sweat. After getting Jensen seated, Jared picks up Daisy and murmurs to her for a minute before putting her on Jensen’s lap. “It’s okay, little girl, he’ll be fine,” he says. “I bet you’ll both feel better in a minute, yeah?” He puts Jensen’s hand on her, and Jensen’s fingers start moving almost automatically over her soft fur.

“It’s okay,” Jared repeats. “Everything’s fine. We’re going to take a little break for a minute, and everything’s going to be okay.” 

After a few minutes, Jensen relaxes, some, becoming fully aware of his surroundings again, and he croaks out an awkward chuckle. “Well, now you know why I don’t go out much,” he says.

“Shh, don’t worry about it,” Jared says. “Are you--are you feeling better? Do you get… was that a panic attack? Do they happen often?”

Jensen shrugs and runs a hand through his damp hair. “Not so much lately. Right after the accident…” He shudders. “They say it’s PTSD. Whatever.”

Jared sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you talk about it. I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “I’m not just an asshole sometimes. I’m a really fucked-up asshole.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jared says. “It’s… look, I don’t know the details. But even if… whatever happened… was your fault, this isn’t like some penance you need to do. PTSD is serious, but you can learn to deal with it. Hell, that’s one of the things I train dogs for, to help people with panic attacks and stuff. Look, Daisy doesn’t even have special training, and she helped, didn’t she? Didn’t you, girl?” He ruffles her ears where she’s still sitting on Jensen’s lap.

Jensen sighs and holds her a little closer. “Yeah, she did. Good girl,” he says. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

They sit quietly another couple of minutes, and then Jared says, “I’m guessing you probably want to go home; do you feel up to walking yet?” He touches Jensen’s knee, a quick pat. “No rush--it’s okay if you want to sit longer. It’s up to you.”

Jensen shakes his head, easing Daisy to the ground before getting carefully to his feet. “I’m the life of the party, aren’t I? It’s usually loud noises that set it off.” He shudders. “But clearly that’s not the only thing.”

“Seriously, man, you don’t need to apologize,” Jared says. “C’mon, I’ll take you home and you can relax. And then, when you’re feeling better, you can give Daisy an extra-special dinner to celebrate how brave she was today--right, girl? You were a superstar.”

*

As they walk back to the house, Jared once again carries on a quiet conversation about whatever comes to his mind, not requiring any real contributions from Jensen. They say goodbye on the sidewalk, and then Jared stands there, Earl quiet at his side, until Jensen opens his door. Once inside, Jensen puts some kibble in Daisy’s bowl and splashes water on his face from the kitchen faucet before sitting down on the couch and staring into space. He feels vaguely nauseated, but that’ll pass. He’s sweat-sticky all over, and he’ll want to shower before long, but right now he just wants to try to turn all systems off for a while.

Jesus, he misses Jason. In the face of Jason’s persistent good spirits, no one could be in a black mood for long. But he’s not going to have that, ever again. No one will.

After a little while, Jensen decides he can stomach some crackers, and between that and a glass of cool water he starts feeling pretty close to human again. Daisy curls up next to him on the couch, and he finds something on Animal Planet that’s got quirky British people watching lions and cheetahs in Africa, and he sits quietly and goes through the box he’d pulled out of the closet, sorting through old mail he’d piled in heaps for months and then pitched into bags when he was preparing for the move. Most of it is trash, which is nice; it makes him feel like he’s accomplishing something without too much effort.

By the time the sun is setting, Jensen feels well enough to heat up some leftovers for dinner. Not that he thinks everything will be fine now. He’s been through this enough times to know it won’t be. But maybe he can face things a little better, knowing that Jared’s seen him freaking out and acted like it was no big deal. Maybe cleaning up after a bunch of dogs every day is good training for dealing with fucked-up people; who knows?

He plays with Daisy a little, on the floor in the living room, tossing a tiny knotted rope for her to pounce on and bring back to him. She did make the day better, panic attack and all. “You’re a good girl,” he says, and she tilts her head at him, waiting for him to throw the rope again.

He is still worn out, and he heads to bed early. Lying in bed in near-darkness, a streetlight down the block the only illumination, he picks up his phone and calls Jared. 

“Hey,” he says. “I wanted to thank you again for… well, for being so cool today. It wasn’t exactly how I expected the day to go.”

“Oh, man, don’t worry about that,” Jared says. “How are you feeling? Mostly back to normal?”

Jensen huffs out a chuckle. “What passes for normal around here, anyway,” he says. “Daisy and I kicked back the rest of the day, no more excitement.”

“That’s good,” Jared says. “Sometimes that’s what you need. I’m glad you called, though. I was--I mean, I wanted to know how you were, but I didn’t want to bother you. You may have noticed I’m not always the best at leaving well enough alone.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Jensen sighs. “I need… to get used to talking about it. Thinking about it. It happened, and it’s not going to change, so I have to deal with it.” He doesn’t _want_ to, but he knows--in this of all things--he can’t have what he wants.

It’s easier, alone in the dark. He’s not saying anything he doesn’t already know. “After college, Jason and I worked together, in marketing at a software company in northern California--whatever, that doesn’t matter. Like I told you, though, he was a musician, and he was always after me to play with him, write songs with him, even do gigs with him. We both had some stock options--we got in early, got lucky--so he wanted to quit and go on the road, maybe go to LA or Nashville and see if he could make it there. Krista wasn’t crazy about the risk, but Jason… no one who knew Jason would ever tell him he couldn’t do something. Not because he’d be a jerk about it, but because he’d just smile, and thank you for your advice, and prove you wrong every time.”

He pauses, and after a few seconds Jared says, quietly, “I wish I could have known him.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Jensen sighs. He swallows and continues, closing his eyes even against the dim light in the room. “We used to go biking at lunchtime, get a little exercise in during the workday; Jason said it cleared his head, and it probably did the same for me. We were on our way back--there were bike trails we took most of the way, but a few blocks from the office we had to cross the train tracks.” 

He stops. His heart is starting to pound, but not like earlier. He can do this. He’s safe at home; it’s just a memory. A horrible, gut-wrenching memory.

“I was in a hurry because I had, I don’t even know, some stupid project that was due, and I wanted to get back to work on it. The train had gone by, so I figured it was okay. The crossing guards hadn’t gone up yet but I went around them and crossed, and Jason was right behind me but he… his foot slipped off his bike pedal and got stuck somehow, in the crossties or whatever, and he couldn’t get off, and it was a double track, you know? And there was another train coming the other way.” He stops talking for a moment, and it’s perfectly quiet in the room.

_“Shit.” Jensen heard Jason call out and he stopped and turned, looking back. Jason leaned down, as much as he could with the bike between his legs. “Hey, Jensen, gimme a hand--” Jason wrenched at his foot, and then they both realized the sound of the train wasn’t receding anymore but instead was getting louder. Jensen started back toward the crossing as Jason looked down the line of rails into the distance and struggled harder, talking at the same time--yelling, now, to be heard over the noise. “Shit, shit. No, don’t come any closer. Stay where you are!” The train horn sounded, deafeningly close, and Jason strained to pull his foot out from where it was entangled. “Oh, fuck. Don’t look!”_

_Jensen did look, of course. How could he not? It all happened in an instant._

Jensen swallows hard, his throat clicking painfully. “He--the train dismembered him. They tried to stop, I could hear the brakes screeching, but there was no way. It was so--one second everything was fine, we were young and healthy and he and Krista were looking forward to their first anniversary and the biggest thing we had to worry about was whether I was going to go on this crazy road trip with him, and the next second there were… _pieces of him_ in the air. Blood and…” He takes a shuddering breath. “He told me not to look. That’s the last thing he said on this earth--the train was coming at him and he couldn’t get away and _he told me not to look_. Jesus, I wish I’d listened.”

“God, Jensen,” Jared breathes.

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “So. Now you know.”

“I am _so sorry_ ,” Jared says. “I can’t begin to imagine what that must be like. I’m… I know it doesn’t do any good, but I’m so sorry that happened to him, and to you. And,” he adds, “I’m sure I’m not the first person to say this, but--it wasn’t your fault. It was a horrible, tragic accident, but just because you were in a hurry doesn’t make it your fault.” 

Jensen shrugs. “Thanks,” he says. He feels wrung out, even more than he did from the panic attack earlier. He hasn’t talked about this in a while, and it feels… he doesn’t know how it feels. Not clean, really, but… empty. And empty is a hell of a lot better than some of the ways he’s felt.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” Jared asks. “I mean, are you okay to be alone?”

Jensen takes a breath; lets it out. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s nothing new, y’know? This is my life. This has been my life for a while now.”

“I know, but…”

“It’s late,” Jensen says. “I’m sure you have to be up early tomorrow. I should let you go.”

“Are you sure?” Jared says. “I could come over, if you want. Just… keep you company.”

“I’m sure,” Jensen says. “Besides, I’m not alone. I’ve got Daisy, right here.”

Jared laughs softly. “You sure do,” he says. “Okay, if she’s taking care of you, then I have nothing to worry about. You get some sleep, okay? I’ll give you a call tomorrow; maybe we can try walking the dogs again soon, without the heavy conversation.”

“That sounds nice,” Jensen says. “You get some rest, too.”

*

Jensen wakes the next morning with a tiny warm body cuddled close to his shoulder. “Hey, Daisy,” he croaks, voice morning-rough. “I think we’re going to take it easy today, what do you say? Had enough drama yesterday, maybe used it up for a while? Yeah. I think so.”

He showers and makes breakfast, then calls Mac and makes plans to meet her for lunch at a café with outdoor seating so he can bring Daisy. It’s a weekday, so the place shouldn’t be too crowded, and it’s on a side street without too much traffic. He thinks he and Daisy will do fine.

“Hi, Jay,” Mac says when they arrive. “Oh, look who’s here! Oh my god, Jensen, is this really Daisy? She’s like a completely different dog!” She crouches down to pet Daisy, who looks at her warily but stands still and accepts the attention. “Wow, you are a beauty when you’re not terrified.”

Jensen makes sure there’s room for Daisy to lie down comfortably under the table and hugs his sister before taking his own seat. “You know it hurts my soul to admit it, Mac, but she’s a great dog and I’m glad you ditched her with me.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she says. “And I promise not to remind you of it more than five or six times a day for the rest of your life.”

“Watch it,” he says. “Mom would still like to know who chipped Grandma Tillie’s teapot.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, picking up her menu. “Seriously, I’m so glad you like her. It’s not good for you to be alone all the time.”

It’s on the tip of Jensen’s tongue to say something about Jared, but he decides to wait. There’ll be plenty of time to tell Mac if he and Jared end up actually dating, rather than just circling around each other like planets. “So, if I’m keeping Daisy, I guess I’ll need to find a veterinarian,” he says. “And I think she needs a bath and maybe a haircut--is that something I can do myself, or do I need to take her… somewhere?” 

“Look at you,” she says. “It’s like you’re all grown up.”

“Shut up,” he says. “Or you’re paying for lunch.”

*

Jared and Jensen have plans to take Earl and Daisy out walking again that Saturday, but Jensen’s phone rings in the morning. “I’m so sorry,” Jared says. “Some of the dogs must have gotten into something and they’ve been throwing up; the vet said they’ll be all right, but I need to stick close by here today. Can I get a rain check on our walk?”

“Sure, of course,” Jensen says. “Poor things. Are you sure they’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, should be. There’s no sign of poisoning, thank goodness; I need to keep an eye on them to make sure they’re stable, and keep ‘em hydrated, that should be it. And do a whole lot of mopping.” He sighs. 

“Ugh,” Jensen says. “That sounds distinctly un-fun.”

“No kidding,” Jared says. “But as long as it’s only a lot of mess and everyone ends up okay in the end, I’ll call it a win.”

“That’s… very mature of you.”

Jared chuckles. “Not a word that gets used to describe me very often. I’ll mark it on my calendar.” He sighs. “Listen, much as I’d rather chat with you, I’ve got to go get started on the cleanup. I just wanted to let you know not to wait around for me.”

“Of course. Let me know when you want to reschedule,” Jensen says. “I hope things get better over there soon.”

“Thanks,” Jared says.

Jensen walks Daisy, because she needs it anyway, and then putters around the house for a while before opening up his laptop and doing some very minor detective work. A little while later he’s ringing the bell at Jared’s front door.

Jared answers a few seconds later, sweaty and disheveled, hair sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it.

“Jensen! What are you doing here?” he asks, then shakes his head. “I mean, hi. That wasn’t meant to sound so rude. But…”

“I don’t know what to do for a sick dog,” Jensen says, holding up a plastic take-out bag, “but I figured you probably hadn’t had time to eat, so I looked up your address, got some sandwiches and thought I’d deliver.”

“Oh my god, you’re an angel,” Jared says. “I’d hug you, but--” He gestures to himself. “Thank you so much--c’mon in, I’ll wash up real quick.”

“I don’t need to stay if you’re still busy,” Jensen says. “I can just--”

“No, it’s okay. I think things have calmed down,” Jared calls from the little washroom. “The worst seems to be over. I’m going to stay here the rest of the day, but I can take a break for a bit.” He comes out, toweling off his face and hands. “Man, this is so nice of you,” he says. “I keep some protein bars and stuff here, ‘cause sometimes I forget to eat all day and then all of a sudden I’m keeling over, but that looks a whole lot better.”

There isn’t much of a guest area, but there’s an extra chair and some space at a desk that isn’t too messy, and Jensen pulls chips and bottles of water as well as paper-wrapped sandwiches out of the bag. Jared attacks his as if he hasn’t eaten in days, and is nearly finished with it by the time he looks up again. “Sorry,” he says, wiping a napkin across his mouth.

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “My mother would say you were complimenting the cook, but I’m not sure any of that was in your mouth long enough for you to taste it.”

Jared chuckles a little bit sadly. “Your mother sounds like a woman with a generous spirit.” 

“Oh, she smacked my knuckles--and my brother’s--a time or twelve while we were growing up,” Jensen says. “But on the whole, yeah, she looks on the bright side. Not sure where my not-so-sunny disposition came from; sometimes I think I must be a changeling.”

“You’ve been dealing with some pretty tough stuff,” Jared says. “Maybe cut yourself a little slack there.”

Jensen shrugs. “Maybe. I could probably stand to take some lessons from her, though.” He shakes off the moment of gloom and reaches into the plastic bag again. “I guess I made the right call figuring you’d have room for dessert,” he says, pulling out two cookies the size of salad plates. “Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin?”

“Split ‘em?” Jared asks.

“Man after my own heart,” Jensen says. 

*

Jensen’s mother calls him every Sunday night, without fail. There was a while when he wouldn’t answer, when the idea of carrying on any kind of conversation was too much to contemplate, and she’d leave pretty much the same message every week. “I love you, honey. I know things are very hard right now, but you keep on trying; they’ll get better. Papa and I are praying for you.”

In recent weeks he’s started telling her about Daisy--first as part of lengthy commentaries on Mac and her lack of boundaries, but now he’s eager to tell his mom what new skills Daisy has mastered: meeting new people, playing at the dog park, fetching her rope. “I can’t say I’m too excited about having to take her to the groomer every couple of months, though,” he says. “She was a champ, such a good little girl, but man, when I was waiting to pick her up I felt like I was today’s special in a room full of people who hadn’t eaten for weeks. Oh, sure, laugh all you want; it was really uncomfortable!”

“I’m sure it was, honey,” she says, but she still sounds amused. “You and Daisy will just have to be brave together.”

“She did look awfully cute when they were done with her,” he admits. “Did you and Dad like the picture I sent?” 

She chuckles. “Oh, you know your father,” she says. “‘That’s not a dog, that’s a dust mop.’ As if he’d know a dust mop if he tripped over one!”

Jensen laughs with her, and he realizes he feels _content_. He doesn’t hang up, though; he gets Daisy on his lap and pets her, and he probably misses a few details as his mother tells him about what she and his father have been doing in the garden, but he makes it through, and when the call is over he looks at Daisy and says, “I dunno, little girl. This ‘living a normal life’ thing sounds a little crazy, but maybe we can give it a try, you think?” She looks at him like he’s the answer to all the questions of the universe, as usual, and licks his hand, and all in all it’s a pretty good night.

*

Jensen’s gotten so he smiles every time the phone rings and he sees it’s Jared. He’s a little bit startled this time, when Jared says he wants to go on an official date, at a local steak house.

“No dogs?” Jensen asks, only half kidding. 

“No dogs,” Jared confirms. “Just you and me, and the whole night ahead of us.”

Jensen’s nervous, for sure, but willing. He thinks it’s probably time to figure out what they’re doing, one way or the other. Saturday night, an official date, and as the day approaches he finds that he’s looking forward to it.

Jared picks him up, and during the short drive to the restaurant Jensen tells him about his and Daisy’s adventures at the groomer’s. Jared cackles at the description of Jensen fending off hopeful women, and Jensen punches him in the arm with mild annoyance. “Some help you are,” he says.

Settled in at the restaurant, orders in and wine poured, Jared sits back and says, “I hope you want to be here as much as I want to be here.” 

Jensen looks down at his wine glass to cover some of his helpless grin, then looks up and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Jared returns the smile. “I gotta say, it’s weird to be on a first date with a guy I feel like I’ve been seeing for weeks.” He laughs to himself. “To be honest, I’m not sure which part is stranger: being on an actual date, or being with someone I feel like I’ve started to get to really know.”

Jensen tilts his head. “You… don’t date much?”

Jared shakes his head. “Not these days. A bit in college, but nothing serious--at least, not on my side.”

“No?” Jensen asks. “I guess, if I think about it, my most serious relationship was in college. Steve.” He takes a sip of his wine, smiling at the memory. “Even moved in with him for a few months, but,” he shrugs, “it kind of ran its course.”

“Well, see?” Jared says. “Like that. In my experience, things don’t last, so it’s better not to expect them to. I’ve got the dogs, and some great friends--who still want to meet you, by the way--and it’s been… simpler this way.”

“Not getting attached,” Jensen says.

“Yeah.” 

Jensen thinks about that for a minute, and then their steaks arrive and command their full attention for a while. “God, that’s good,” Jensen says after a few bites. “Figures I could count on a Texas boy to know good beef.”

“Damn right,” Jared says. “I don’t eat red meat too often, but every now and again you gotta do it up right.”

“So,” Jensen asks, toying with a bit of carrot on his plate that’s clearly there more for decoration than actual eating, “if you don’t usually date people you’ve gotten to know, I guess the obvious question is, what’s different now?”

“I’m not sure,” Jared says. “I just… I really like talking to you. I have fun with you.” He shrugs. “And it’s hardly breaking news that you are sexy as hell, man. Pretty much since the first time we met, I’ve been thinking about…” He trails off with a shrug. 

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “Thinking about…?” He points his fork at Jared. “If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it,” he recites with a grin.

Jared laughs. “Oh, you want me to say it? I can say it.” He lowers his voice slightly, glancing at the other diners. “I’ve been thinking about banging you like a screen door in a hurricane,” he says, eyes never wavering from Jensen’s. “Thinking about peeling your clothes off and licking every inch of your skin, then going back to spend extra time on the good spots. Thinking about staying up all night long learning what makes you scream.” He flashes a quick grin. “That clear enough?”

Jensen coughs and takes a sip of wine. “Yeah, I think that’s pretty clear.” He meets Jared’s gaze again, raising his chin. “I don’t know, though. Like you say, we’ve been getting to know each other pretty well, but what if you turn out to be a shitty kisser? Sure, you look great on the outside, but do you know what to do with all that high-end equipment?”

Jared nearly growls. “Oh, I promise you won’t have any complaints,” he says. 

Jensen smiles. “I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” It’s been a hell of a long time since he’s flirted like this, but--whether it’s the wine, or just being around Jared this long--it feels damn good. He turns his attention back to the steak, but keeps stealing glances at Jared while they finish their meals. It’s a bit difficult to go back to talking about rescue dogs after that, but after a false start or two they manage it.

By mutual agreement they decline dessert, but when they leave, instead of getting the car right away, Jared says, “Let’s walk a bit.” He tangles his fingers with Jensen’s and leads him down a path that runs along the water. It’s fully dark, the path lit intermittently with lamps, and while there are a few other couples out strolling it feels fairly private. After they’ve gone a little way Jared stops, still holding Jensen’s hand, and turns to him. “I thought maybe we should try out that kissing thing, make sure you don’t want to change your mind before we head home.” The tip of his tongue peeks out, wetting his lower lip, and Jensen wants to bite it.

Jensen nods, his heart pounding all of a sudden. “Good idea. Better safe than sorry.”

Jared closes the short distance between them, brushing his closed lips over Jensen’s once, twice, before Jensen takes the lead and deepens the kiss. Jared tastes like wine, heady and rich, and Jensen’s head spins with the awareness that this is finally happening. Jared makes a soft sound, not quite a moan, and his hands clench on Jensen’s shoulder blades. They kiss for a long, long moment, pressed lightly together from hips to mouths. Jensen can feel Jared hardening, and it’s all absolutely perfect. When he pulls back to look at Jared, they’re both grinning like idiots. “Do I pass?” Jared asks.

“Flying colors,” Jensen says. “Your place or mine?”

*

They end up back at Jensen’s house because he realizes he needs to let Daisy out before bed. The mundane task gives him time to think again about what he’s doing--time to freak out, if he’s going to. But Jared’s right there, getting a glass of water while Jensen waits for Daisy to do her business; coming up behind Jensen to wrap strong arms around him and nuzzle his ear. Jensen’s heart is beating fast, for sure, but it doesn’t feel like panic for a change. And if things get weird, well, Jared’s seen it all before, and he still came back. 

“Hey,” Jared says, thumb sliding over Jensen’s cheekbone. “You here with me?” 

Jensen shakes his head to clear it. “Yes,” he says. “Very much so.” He wraps his arms around Jared and kisses him, long and deep and intent, then slides his fingers into Jared’s waistband to tug out his shirttails. Jared makes a soft sound of approval and starts on his buttons, and soon he’s standing naked to the waist. “Wow,” Jensen says appreciatively. He knew Jared was built, of course, but the reality is even better than he’d expected.

“Yeah?” Jared says, grinning. “Is it my turn? I gotta warn you, I was never any good at unwrapping my presents slowly.”

“I’ll help,” Jensen says, and with a bit of tugging and awkward hopping they’re soon stripped to their briefs and tumbled onto the bed. 

“I gotta warn you, it’s been a while,” Jensen says, hands sliding over Jared’s body because he can’t make up his mind where he most wants to touch.

“‘sokay,” Jared murmurs, lips hot on the skin of Jensen’s throat. “It’s like riding a--oh, shit, pretend I didn’t go there…” He freezes, and so does Jensen, waiting for the anguish and panic to hit.

Jensen takes a deep breath, then another. His body is still humming with arousal, and while he has to wince away the usual image of horror, he finds he’s able to do it. “It’s okay,” he says after a few seconds. “I’ll… I was gonna say, I might not last very long, so hey, maybe a little distraction is a good thing.” He’s not sure he’s entirely convincing--to himself or to Jared--but Jared kisses him sweetly, then with increasing heat, and soon there’s no room in his mind for anything but Jared.

They slide against one another, learning each other’s bodies; Jared shivers when Jensen thumbs his nipples, so Jensen follows with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Jared drags blunt fingernails up Jensen’s back, and Jensen shudders and bucks against him. “I’m not kidding,” Jensen says breathlessly; “I’m this close to creaming myself like a teenager.”

“Long as you don’t make a habit of it, I promise not to tell,” Jared says. “Like I said, I’ve been wanting you a while myself.”

Jensen manages to hold out long enough that they’re fully naked; gets to run appreciative fingers up and down the length of Jared’s cock, drawing moans from Jared that hit deep in Jensen’s gut. Jared is mapping Jensen’s torso with fingers and tongue, as promised, and Jensen only has enough warning to gasp, “Oh, fuck--” before he’s coming, body jerking against Jared’s and fingers clenching around solid flesh. Through the waves of sensation he’s aware of Jared’s hand wrapping over his, keeping the strokes going, and Jared comes soon after with a muffled grunt. They lie together, panting, skin radiating heat in the warm air, and Jensen doesn’t think about anything at all, just drifts for a moment.

Once his heart rate returns to normal, he does freak out a little bit, trembling at the awareness that he’s taken so much pleasure for himself and wants nothing more than to do it again. But Jared holds him quietly, and after a while he falls asleep.

*

Jared’s phone alarm goes off before it’s fully light, and he shuts it off with a muttered apology. “Gotta go take care of the dogs,” he says quietly. “I tried to arrange for the morning off, but Chad’s out of town and Rob’s wife doesn’t like him working weekends. I’m sorry; go back to sleep.” He leans over for a soft, dry kiss before rolling out of bed and starting to gather his clothes. Jensen listens to him move around the room quietly, then make a stop in the bathroom before heading out with a soft click of the front door closing behind him.

Jensen dozes a bit after that, but doesn’t fully sleep. His mind keeps replaying the night before, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

He’s not having second thoughts. No regrets--the sex with Jared was fantastic and everything else was equally amazing. He doesn’t remember it ever being like this. Fighting to stay awake because he didn’t want to give up the awareness of Jared’s arms around him. Staring into each other’s eyes, sharing breath--with his old boyfriends, even Steve, he remembers feeling smothered by being too close, but with Jared he just wants to sink deeper and deeper into Jared’s _being_. It’s good. It was great. But… that kind of intensity is a lot to take in all at once. 

He gets up himself before too long and takes a shower, rinsing off the dried sweat and spunk, then grabs an apple to eat while he walks Daisy. Getting out in the sunshine before the day’s heat, getting his body moving, is the best way he knows to get his mind working in a useful way, rather than running on hamster wheels turning the same thing over and over. It’s hardly a workout, walking a little tyke like her, but it’s better than nothing.

He’s not sure he’s ready for this, is the thing. Hell, he’s not sure he’s ready for a _dog_ , much less a… relationship? Is this a relationship? Jared made it pretty clear he doesn’t normally get attached. He also said this was different, but is that enough? What with all Jensen’s own issues, is it a good idea to get mixed up with someone who may not be likely to stick around?

He wasn’t looking for a relationship, that’s for damn sure. Maybe that means if it doesn’t last, that’s okay. Just get back into the swing of feeling human, and not worry too much if it’s a long-term thing. That might be smartest. Enjoy today. Jared’s philosophy isn’t all that bad, when he thinks about it. Enjoying today is a lot more than he’s had for a long time, so yeah, he can go with that.

*

Jared calls late in the day. “Hey,” he says when Jensen answers. “I… wanted to say hi.” 

“Hi,” Jensen says, not even trying to hold back his grin.

“I’m really hoping last night wasn’t a hallucination,” Jared says, “though if it was, I want to bottle that shit and sell it. But mostly, I want to do it again as soon as possible. Please tell me it’s not just me?”

Jensen chuckles. “Not just you,” he says. “That was… the best night I’ve had, maybe ever. And my social calendar is wide open, so any time you want a repeat performance, let me know.”

“Would tonight be too soon?” Jared asks. “This goes against all my usual rules, but seriously, fuck rules.”

“Tonight would be fantastic,” Jensen says. “Have you eaten? I’ve got some chicken I can put on the grill, if you want to come over.”

“Give me twenty minutes to shower, and I’ll be there,” Jared says. And it’s as easy as that.

*

Jensen keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. This isn’t his life. Even before, this wasn’t his life, this fairy tale of a great friend and amazing lover rolled into one. But he keeps waking up every day and taking it as it comes, being grateful for the time together and not focusing on what might happen a week or a month or a year from now. He starts going over to the kennel a day or two a week, watching Jared work with the dogs and even helping a bit with some of the ones that are further along in their training.

Rationally, he knows he can’t be a bum the rest of his life. The stock he sold will carry him for a while, but not forever. When he moved down here, he couldn’t think beyond the next day or week--signing a six-month lease seemed like peering into a future he didn’t really expect to see; now he’s closing in on the end of that period and he still doesn’t know what’s coming next… except that it is, apparently, coming. 

He doesn’t want to work with Jared--he’s come to love Daisy, but dogs aren’t his calling the way they are Jared’s. But there must be _something_ that suits him that won’t make him feel like he’s letting both Jason and himself down. He doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about that, though. He’ll have to, fairly soon, but he’s not ready yet. First he needs to get used to the idea that his life isn’t over. 

For now, he walks Daisy twice a day and meets up with Mac once a week. He found a treadmill on Craigslist and is putting it to good use, though after not exercising for so long his cardio strength is nothing like it used to be. He knows it’s not going to come back overnight, and he keeps at it, even though Jared is more than willing to make suggestions about other types of aerobic exercise he could be practicing. “You may have noticed I’m not turning you down,” Jensen tells him, “but I don’t think either of us could keep at it long enough to make up for months of being a couch potato.” Once he gets a little of his wind back, he starts running with Jared on days when one of the assistants is working mornings.

So yeah, everything is going somewhere the sunny side of amazing, and the only question is, how long will it last?

*

Mac’s been after him for a while, wanting to meet Jared. He told her about the two of them once it became clear it hadn’t been a one-time thing, and she’s over the moon about it--and never fails to remind him that if not for her, they’d never have met. He didn’t want to inflict her on Jared too soon, but he figures there’s a point at which meeting the family makes sense, so the umpteenth time she brings it up, he agrees.

“Okay,” Jensen says. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, god knows you’re not equipped to actually cook a meal,” she says, and he doesn’t choose to argue, “so how about the two of you come over to my place for dinner. Say, Saturday? Or Sunday, if that’s better. Just let me know.”

“Okay, I’ll check with him and get back to you,” Jensen says. “Now, be nice! No third degree, and no embarrassing stories about me in high school, either.” 

“I make no promises,” Mac says, laughing. “But seriously, I want to meet the guy who’s made you so happy. Besides, I can pick his brain for ideas on how to handle the dogs better. It’ll be fun.”

Jensen’s a little skeptical about the fun part, but he does want the two of them to meet. They’re pretty much the most important people in his life right now--at least, the most important ones who aren’t a thousand miles and a time zone away--and he’d like them to get along. And they do have the dog business in common, so Jared probably could be a big help to Mac. 

Jared seems a little hesitant, but he eventually agrees, and everything is set for Sunday dinner at Mac’s until Jensen gets a text from Jared Sunday morning saying _Gotta go out of town for a few days. Family shit. Sorry, will let you know when I’m back._ He answers with a _What’s wrong?_ but gets no answer, and his later _I’m worried--please let me know you’re okay_ just gets _I’m fine, busy_ in response.

He tries calling Jared’s business number, but it goes to voicemail. He assumes Jared must have arranged for someone to take care of the dogs--which means he gave them more thought than he did Jensen.

It’s not the end of the world; Jensen’s fine without him for a few days, though he does think Jared could have found time to call or at least send a more informative text. The few days stretch into a week, and still no word. Jensen’s torn between wanting to call and not wanting to push--Jared said he was busy, after all, and Jensen doesn’t want to act like a needy kid. He stops by the kennel one day and finds one of Jared’s assistants there, Chad, who he’d met once before, though they hadn’t talked much. So that confirms that he doesn’t need to worry about the dogs. But when he asks where Jared’s gone, Chad raises an eyebrow and says he can’t give out Jared’s personal information.

Jensen is beyond frustrated, but there’s not much he can do. He made his apologies to Mac back when he canceled dinner, but when the next weekend rolls around and he doesn’t have anything new to tell her when they meet up, he can see she isn’t impressed. 

She seems to be biting her tongue through most of the meal. By the time they’re waiting for the check she seems to have reached a decision. “Okay, so, here’s the thing,” she says. “Jared.” She pauses.

“What about him?” Jensen asks.

“Well…” she says, slowly. “I wasn’t going to say anything, because everything seemed to be going so well, and you were so happy…”

Jensen’s dinner does a slow roll in his belly. “That sounds ominous,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

“I mean, he’s definitely good at what he does, no question about that,” she says. “Everybody says, if you have a dog that needs retraining, he’s the guy. I don’t know why I hadn’t heard of him before, to be honest, except that he usually only takes the really tough cases, so our circles don’t tend to overlap.”

“Okay,” Jensen says, with an unspoken _get to the point_.

“Yeah, so,” she continues. “Once I did start asking people about him, some of the stuff I heard kind of, well, bothered me. The thing is, he’s _great_ with dogs, but his personal life…” She pauses again, and it’s obvious she’s searching for the right words.

“What about it?” he asks.

“People say he’s a… player?” she says, and he suspects that’s not the word she initially thought of. “He’s kind of got a reputation as the guy who can train any dog and can… well, _get_ … any guy. But he doesn’t tend to stick around. I mean, I guess that’s okay if that’s what both guys want--no strings attached--but I don’t think that’s how you’ve been looking at this.”

It wasn’t how either of them had been looking at it--at least, that’s what Jensen had thought, based on their discussion that first night at dinner, and all the good days since then. “I know he’s fooled around in the past,” he says, though Jared hadn’t made it sound that extreme, “but like you said, sometimes that’s all guys want. He said things with us were different…”

She nods. “I know. And I wanted to believe that was true. That’s why I didn’t mention this sooner. I mean, people can change, and let’s face it, you’re an amazing guy. Who _wouldn’t_ want to be serious about you? But this seems like maybe…” Another pause. “I don’t know, maybe he thought he was ready--but I have to say, disappearing like this, without even talking to you… on top of his history. I thought you should know.” Her eyes are sad. “I want you to be happy, Jensen. I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but after this long I felt like I had to.”

Jensen can’t believe everything he and Jared shared was fake. But Mac has a point--maybe Jared meant well, but things got to be too much. Still, Jensen would have thought Jared would be up front with him. Not this radio silence.

He takes Mac home and hugs her goodbye, trying not to focus on the sympathy that’s clear in her words and her touch. When he gets home he cuddles Daisy for a bit, then tries texting Jared one more time. _Still too busy to talk?_

He doesn’t get an answer.

*

Jared finally texts him the following Tuesday, after nearly a week and a half. _Back, really busy catching up with the dogs._

Jensen stares at his phone. “Are you kidding?” he mutters. Times like this, he wishes Daisy could talk. He doesn’t want to rehash things with Mac, and calling his mother to talk about relationship issues is a little too weird. 

Suddenly, achingly, he wishes he could call Jason. Jason would always listen, give smart advice, and even if he couldn’t fix things he’d make the situation better somehow. The pain Jensen feels isn’t the familiar guilt, though; it’s loss, pure and simple. Jason had always been there, been such a big part of his life for so many years, even once he was married. And now he’s gone, and maybe Jared is, too. 

_Well, let me know when you have time, I guess_ , he replies, and tosses the phone down. He kind of wants to crawl into bed and not come out for a few days--or weeks--but Daisy needs to be walked, so he picks up the leash and a plastic bag and heads out. By the time he gets home, he doesn’t feel okay, but at least he’s over the initial gut-punch reaction. Texts are a shitty way to communicate, anyway. Maybe he’s reading too much into this. Everything could be fine once Jared gets back to normal. Maybe.

*

Jared calls two days later, in the evening. Jensen’s already eaten dinner and is playing tug-of-war with Daisy on the living room floor. Jensen looks at the phone, then lets it ring a couple of times before answering. “Hi,” he says, and waits to hear what comes next.

“Hi,” Jared says. “Sorry it’s been a while--things have been crazy.”

“I guess so,” Jensen says. He wants to ask what the hell happened, but he kind of feels like it’s up to Jared to make the effort.

“So… how’s Daisy doing?” Jared says, and Jensen’s calm evaporates just like that. 

“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asks. “You vanish for a week and a half, not even a phone call to explain what the hell is going on, and now it’s _How’s Daisy_ without any kind of apology?” His heart is pounding with anger, and he knows he should probably hold his tongue but he’s all out of patience. “Daisy is fine, and so am I, thanks for asking. Mac thinks you’re an asshole, by the way, and I’m not so sure she’s wrong.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Jared says. “I told you I was busy--and I’m sorry I missed the all-important dinner with your sister, but excuse me for having other priorities.”

“I might if I knew what those priorities _were_ ,” Jensen says. “Which I would know if you’d taken five minutes during the past week to pick up the phone and _tell me_. I’m not saying whatever you were doing wasn’t important--maybe it was--but it may come as a shock to you that the rest of the world didn’t get put on hold in the meantime.”

“I… don’t even know what to say,” Jared says. “I’m sorry you’re so pissed, but, hell, I’ve been having a pretty shitty time and I kind of thought you’d help with that, not make it worse.”

“Newsflash, Jared,” Jensen says. “If you want someone to help you through a shitty time, you have to talk to them, not expect them to wait on the shelf for however long and then pat you on the head when it’s convenient for _you_.” 

“Okay, I guess I got that message,” Jared says. There’s a pause, then, “Shit. I don’t have time or energy for this tonight. I was hoping… but whatever. Listen, when you’re done having your little meltdown, let me know, all right? I’ve gotta go.”

Jensen tosses his phone down and shakes his head in frustration. “What the hell, Daisy?” he asks. She puts a tiny paw on his hand, tilting her head as if she wants to help, and he picks her up and cradles her close. “I don’t know what just happened,” he whispers. “What should I do, little girl?” She doesn’t answer, of course, and after a while he puts her down. “Guess it’s you and me, kid, at least for now,” he says, taking her out back in preparation for going to bed. He doesn’t know what to do about Jared, but he has a lot of practice in putting one foot in front of the other even when he doesn’t want to.

*

The next day, in a better mood after a surprisingly good night’s sleep, he texts Jared. _Going to the park with Daisy later, let me know if you want to come meet us._ He waits a while, but there’s no answer, and though he goes late enough that he knows Jared’s usually done with work for the day, Jared doesn’t turn up along their usual route, either.

The next morning, as Daisy and Jensen are lying in bed debating getting up, Jensen’s phone buzzes. _Sorry, didn’t see this until now. Maybe another time._

That’s at least more civil than their last conversation. But it still isn’t anything like what they had--what Jensen thought they had before. 

He waits another couple of days in hopes Jared might send a reciprocal offer, but things stay silent. He considers trying again, maybe offering to bring sandwiches by if Jared’s too busy for a lunch break, but when he thinks about it, it’s Jared’s turn to make an overture. 

When he finally gets a text from Jared, it’s after 11 on Friday night. _At Baxter’s w friends, come down if you want_. Jensen and Daisy are already tucked into bed, and even if they weren’t he doesn’t think a bar is the best place to try to sort things out. When he looks online--out of curiosity--and sees the bar has go-go dancers and amateur stripping contests, he realizes Jared’s sent a pretty clear message. It may not be the one Jensen wanted to get, but… well, maybe Mac was right after all.

*

The advantage of having been depressed for so long is that it’s familiar. It’s not a _good_ kind of familiar, but at least he knows his way around. He goes back to taking his sleeping pills most nights, but other than that, life goes on pretty much as it had before. He’s got Daisy to keep him going out a couple of times a day, and when he tells Mac things with him and Jared are over she gently backs off the subject without even an “I told you so.” 

To fill up some of his time, Jensen starts helping a friend of Mac’s with marketing for her own spare-room startup. It’s not going to pay the rent, but it gets him back into something like work mode, at least enough that he starts looking around for non-profits that might need some part-time help. He likes the idea of helping animals, and he figures there must be other people who need stuff written and are willing to pay at least a little bit for it.

Things are going a whole lot better than he’d have expected, apart from the Jared-sized hole in his life, when one morning on their walk Daisy shies away from a dog they haven’t seen before, some kind of large terrier, he thinks, and it goes after her like lightning. Its owner is shocked, horrified, but it’s on an extended leash and by the time they get the two dogs separated Daisy is bleeding all over the place, limping and whimpering. Jensen can’t get his brain to work right; he doesn’t have a car nearby so he picks her up and starts running. He’d probably have run like that all the way to the vet’s, but a good Samaritan pulls over and calls out to him to get in, then drives the rest of the way with Jensen shaking in the passenger seat. 

At the vet’s, the person working the desk takes one look at Daisy and gets her into an exam room right away, pulling a doctor out of another consultation. 

The doctor is a petite, dark-haired woman with a soft voice and gentle-looking hands. On top of the obvious lacerations, she says she’s concerned about possible internal damage from the bite. They take Daisy in back for X-rays and Jensen sinks onto the little bench in the corner of the exam room, shaking. His hands and shirt are bloody, and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been a long time since he had an attack--any time he’s come close, petting Daisy has calmed him down pretty quickly--and knowing that she’s hurt, possibly dying, constricts his lungs so much he thinks he’s going to pass out.

He gets past it, of course. You don’t _actually_ die from panic attacks, as he’s been told time and time again. He’s barely back in control, drenched with sweat and exhausted, when the vet’s assistant comes back to say Daisy needs emergency surgery. Something about internal bleeding--Jensen doesn’t catch all the details, just says, “Yes, yes, do whatever you have to.” He tries to hold himself together, but he can feel the tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Is there anyone you can call?” the assistant asks gently. “She’s going to be a while; maybe you want to go home and we’ll let you know as soon as--” 

Jensen shakes his head. No. He’s staying until she comes out--she _will_ come out, she’ll be fine-- “I’ll wait,” he says.

The assistant nods. “That’s fine, you’re more than welcome. I’m awfully sorry, though--we need to use this room for other patients, so… maybe you want to go to the restroom and clean up a bit, and then you can sit in the waiting area…”

She shows him to the small restroom, where he stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment before washing his shaking hands and splashing water on his face. There’s not much he can do about his shirt, though he dabs at it with wet paper towels and at least softens the stains to pink instead of dark red. When he finally goes back out to the sitting area he finds a spot in the corner. There are a couple of other people there waiting for their appointments, and they glance at him and then quickly look away. He remembers those looks, the pity and fear, as if what happened to him might be contagious. He pulls out his phone by habit, as a barrier between himself and the rest of the world if nothing else, and finds himself sending a text to Jared.

_At the vet. Daisy got attacked by another dog at the park. In surgery. Don’t know yet how bad it is._

He doesn’t really expect an answer. It’s the middle of the day, Jared’s working, and besides, they haven’t talked in weeks. But Jared probably still cares about Daisy, Jensen figures, even if he’s had enough of Jensen.

The minutes go slowly by and there’s no news about Daisy, and Jensen’s wondering how long he should wait before begging the people at the desk for news when the front door flies open and Jared rushes in. He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls Jensen into his arms and holds him, and Jensen lets himself relax into the strength of Jared’s embrace. 

That can’t last forever, though. After a minute, Jensen pulls back, wiping a hand across his eyes. “I--I didn’t expect you to come,” he says.

“I wasn’t going to leave you here all by yourself,” Jared says. “Chad can look after the dogs for the day.”

Jared sits there with him until the vet comes out to say that Daisy made it through the surgery. It’ll be a little while before she wakes up, though, and they want to keep her overnight to make sure she doesn’t have any adverse reactions. “If you want to stay until she wakes up and say hello to her, you can,” the vet says. “It’s up to you.”

Of course Jensen stays, and Jared stays with him, an arm around his shoulder and talking quietly about his own dogs--the ones he’s currently training--now that Daisy’s out of danger. He says Earl’s new family picked him up while Jared was gone, so now he’s helping a kid with anxiety issues, and Jared was sorry not to be able to say goodbye to him but knows he’s going to do great there. Jensen only listens off and on, but Jared’s voice is soothing and Jensen is overwhelmingly grateful that Jared is there.

At long last they get to go in the back where they find a groggy, disoriented Daisy, her fur rumpled and missing shaved patches where the bite wounds were cleaned. There’s a frightening-looking line of sutures on her belly. She sniffs wearily at Jensen’s hand, and he ruffles her ears as lightly as he possibly can, trying to hold back more tears. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ackles, we’ll take good care of her,” the vet’s assistant says. “We’ve got a tech on duty all night long, and if anything at all happens, we’ll call you. But she should be fine. Dr. Evans is an excellent surgeon.”

Jared gives him a ride home, and offers to come in, but Jensen feels like he’s taken up enough of Jared’s time already. “Okay, well, get some rest,” Jared tells him. “And let me know how she’s doing tomorrow, yeah?”

Jensen nods wearily. It’s been quite a day--he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and all he wants to do is fall into bed.

*

He does call Jared the next day; tells him Daisy is home and limping around bravely in a cone that seems twice as big as she is. Jared makes him run through all the things Jensen has to do to care for her, and gives him advice on the best way to give antibiotics so they won’t upset Daisy’s stomach. They talk again the next night, the conversation starting and ending with Daisy but touching on other things in between. It’s not as easy as it was before, but it’s better than the complete silence of the past weeks. 

On Saturday, Jared asks if he can come by, and they end up sitting in the living room eating sandwiches that Jared brought, Daisy curled on her bed between them on the sofa. Once they’re almost finished, Jared takes a breath and says, “I’m sorry I was kind of distant when I came back. I guess… I was pretty stressed out, and you were asking things that were probably reasonable, but I wasn’t in a place where I wanted to talk. So I’m sorry for that. The truth is, I don’t know the first thing about keeping a relationship going. I’ve never really tried before. And with all the other shit… I kind of freaked out some.”

Jensen puts the last bit of his sandwich down and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “Okay,” he says. “So what does that mean, now?”

Jared huffs out a sigh. “I don’t know. I guess that’s up to you. Whether you want to give things another try.”

“What do _you_ want?” Jensen asks. “I mean, you’re the one who doesn’t do relationships. You’re the one who freaked out, not me.”

“I want you,” Jared says, without hesitation. “I’m just, I don’t know what that looks like, I guess. I love being with you, spending time with you. I’ve missed you like crazy, these past weeks.” He pauses, then continues, “But I’m not gonna lie, I can’t help wondering if that’s going to… wear off one day. Or if it’s going to change for you, either. How can anyone promise anything about the future? People change.”

That’s true enough--of all the things Jensen knows, the uncertainty of life is pretty much top of the list. That said, he’s not sure he wants to sign up for some kind of rollercoaster if Jared’s going to keep blowing hot and cold. “Can you at least tell me what the mystery trip was about, now?” he asks. “What was so important that you couldn’t even call me once, or tell me about it afterwards?” 

Jared nods slowly. “That’s fair. I know I don’t need to ask you to keep this private… It was my sister, Meg. She got pregnant--she’s only 19--”

Jensen listens silently as Jared tells him that Meg wanted an abortion but her--their--parents guilt-tripped her into deciding against it. Then, when she realized a couple of months later that she still didn’t want to have the baby, they told her they wouldn’t help her financially or otherwise.

“She found a place that would do it, even though she was further along, but it was a long ways away and she was so scared, so she asked me if I’d come with her. And then she had a bad reaction to the anesthetic and--well, it was a huge clusterfuck. She’s okay now, thank goodness, and I ended up calling my big brother and he managed to talk our aunt and uncle into letting her stay with them the rest of the summer, until school starts again.”

It all sounds horrible. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Is she doing okay now? I mean--with the whole thing?”

“Yeah.” Jared smiles, relaxing somewhat. “She’s doing great. She says she knows she made the right choice. And she was always Aunt Dottie’s favorite, so she’s probably getting spoiled rotten.”

“That’s good,” Jensen says. He still finds it hard to believe that any parents would refuse to help their daughter when she really needed them--but he knows it happens, probably more often than he realizes.

They hug before Jared leaves that day, long and hard. “I’m glad your sister’s okay, and that you were able to help her,” Jensen says. “I still think you should have called me. But I understand that it was a stressful time.” Jared nods, and Jensen isn’t sure if Jared’s admitting he should have called, or simply agreeing that he was stressed, but he figures he’ll call it a win.

After that, Jared comes by more often, helping Jensen make dinner or curling up on the couch to watch TV. Jared is acting more like himself--or more like Jensen remembers, anyway--but they still haven’t done anything more than kiss and Jensen keeps feeling like there’s something more going on that he doesn’t know about. 

Finally, one evening a couple of weeks later they’re out walking Daisy--Jensen keeping her safely away from other dogs, especially as she’s still healing--and it’s so like but so unlike how they used to be that Jensen comes right out and asks. “Is there… did something change?” Jared looks a question at him, so he continues. “Between us. I mean, if it did, that’s…” He shrugs. “It is what it is. I just feel like I’ve missed something, and I’d rather know.” He’s not actually all that calm about it, to be honest--especially not after the ups and downs of the past month or two--but he figures there’s no point in shying away from whatever the reality is. If he’s going to lose something by asking, it’s probably already lost anyhow.

Jared shakes his head. “I don’t--I mean…” He stops walking, like he can’t do that and think at the same time. “How I feel about you hasn’t changed,” he says. “I just…” He pauses, looking around as if he’s afraid someone else will be listening to them. Which they’re not; the nearest other person in the park is yards away and doesn’t seem prone to eavesdropping. Finally, Jared sighs. “I guess the stuff with my family fucked with my head more than I like to think. I’m sorry.”

“The stuff with your sister, you mean,” Jensen says. “It sounded like a pretty upsetting situation. But you said she was doing well now.”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “She’s doing great. The thing is, I… don’t talk to my family much. Apart from Meg, I mean. When I told them I was gay, they… didn’t take it well.”

“Oh my god,” Jensen says. “Did they kick you out?”

“Not exactly,” Jared says. “But… things were never the same, after. I went away to college and made sure to have places to stay for the summer, and that was mostly that. I haven’t really spent any time with them since. Meg always had my back, and Jeff--my brother--is pretty much cool with it, but he doesn’t want to make waves with my parents, so we mostly keep it to an occasional email.”

“So when your sister called you for help, and then you had to talk to your brother and all, it was a big deal,” Jensen says. It doesn’t make how Jared handled it right, but at least some of the pieces are starting to fit together.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with you, it just… brought up a bunch of shit.”

Jensen moves closer, putting one hand on Jared’s hip. “It must feel awful,” he says softly. “I can’t even imagine--I mean, I did imagine, when I was a kid; I was terrified something like that would happen with my parents. But I guess I also knew, deep down, it wouldn’t. And it shouldn’t have happened to you, either.”

Jared shakes his head. “It’s not that bad. I was heading to college anyway--it’s not like I was out on the street. A lot of other kids have it a lot worse.”

“Still,” Jensen says. “You’re their son. They’re supposed to love you, no matter what.” Jensen’s always known how lucky he is that his parents were as accepting as they were, though they hadn’t been thrilled at first either.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Well, sometimes it doesn’t work out that way.”

Jensen’s arms go around Jared, pulling him close. He doesn’t know what to say--nothing he could say would fix this. 

“It’s okay, really,” Jared says. “Like I said, dealing with them… it stressed me out, and then when you texted I didn’t know what to say--haven’t known what to say.”

“Shh,” Jensen says. “You don’t have to say anything.”

After that, things get better. Jared still seems a bit on edge, but he’s clearly making an effort. And with a better understanding of why Jared was being so weird, Jensen’s willing to make more of an effort, too. 

Their sex life also gets back to normal, which seems to be as much of a relief to Jared as it is to Jensen. Jared isn’t spending every night at Jensen’s, but it’s about half and half. That actually works out well for Jensen. He’s not ready to live with someone full-time, not yet. Even thinking about it scares him. But he is thinking about it.

One of the things he likes best--apart from the sex itself, obviously--is lying in bed with Jared, after. There’s usually enough light from the window to see by, and Jensen loves lying on his side, looking at Jared’s silhouette, one hand resting on Jared’s chest. Sometimes, once they’re done, Daisy hops up to lie near the foot of the bed. She’s healing well, but Jensen can’t seem to make himself say no to her about anything these days--if he ever could to begin with. Jared teased Jensen about that at first, but he clearly doesn’t mind.

One night, as they’re catching their breath and winding down, Jared says, “I did have a dog, once. I mean, one that was mine.”

“Oh?” Jensen says. It’s not surprising, but he is surprised that Jared hadn’t mentioned it sooner. 

“His name was Harley,” Jared says. “He was the best. I got him for my 11th birthday, when my dad said I was old enough to be responsible. I trained him real good--he was dumb as a box of rocks, but so loyal and obedient.”

“What kind was he?” Jensen asks.

“He was a rescue,” Jared says. “I think he was part Mastiff, maybe part Rhodesian Ridgeback.” He laughs softly. “He was big--he could stand up and put his paws on my shoulders, even after I grew up. He’d have driven you nuts.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jensen says, though that does sound awfully big. “So… obviously he isn’t around anymore.”

Jared sighs. “No. I mean, he probably wouldn’t be anyway--big dogs just don’t live that long. But he got cancer, toward the end of my first year in college. My folks--I’d left him at home, because obviously I couldn’t have him in the dorms. I mean, that had been the plan, even before I told them… It made it awkward, going home to visit him, but I went as often as I could. I think that was the hardest part, in a way. Not that my parents were so… disappointed in me, but that I couldn’t visit Harls all the time. When I was planning for college, I’d figured it was close enough to go home most weekends. I don’t know what I’d have done different, though. I guess not have told them so soon.” He shrugs. “Anyway, he was there, with them, and he got sick.”

“So, were you able to… spend much time with him… before?”

“Actually, yeah,” Jared says. “Though not at my parents’. The thing is, dogs respond well to chemo, a lot of the time--it isn’t as hard on them as it is on people. But it’s not cheap, and it takes a good amount of work. And my parents--I mean, they loved Harley, everyone loved him, but…”

“They didn’t want to bother,” Jensen says. He can understand it, sort of. Not that long ago he would have felt the same way.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “So I said the hell with that. I was lucky--I’d already set up to room with some friends over the summer, and they were totally cool about my bringing him along. We spent all summer worrying that the landlords would come by and we’d end up out on the street, but it didn’t happen, and then when school started I found a place that would let me keep him.”

“It must have been hard, though,” Jensen says. “How much did it even cost? And you were a student.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Jared says. “I had a scholarship, which helped, but of course over the summer I was on my own. Basically I ate a lot of mac and cheese, and took every job I could get, and ran up a credit card for the actual vet bills. It was worth it, though. The cancer went into remission for a while and we had some good times together. You know, when you’re a kid, you never think of your pets getting old and dying. You kind of assume they’ll be around forever. This--I really appreciated the time I had with Harley, that last year.”

“I wish I could have known him,” Jensen says. 

“He was the best,” Jared says. “The best friend anyone could ever have.”

Jensen sighs and pulls Jared close. “So after that you figured you couldn’t replace him, huh.”

Jared nods. “Well, at first it just hurt too much. Hell, you know. And then after I started the business, I figured I could do more good that way than if I had one or two of my own. And I didn’t feel like I could do both at the same time. Not and take the time I’d want to with each.”

“You are doing a lot of good,” Jensen says. “But who knows? Like you say, things change.”

“I guess,” Jared says.

“Well, you’re kind of Daisy’s step-dad, anyway,” Jensen says. “I mean, if you hadn’t helped me with her, I don’t even know what would have happened. She’d probably still be hiding in her crate.” He laughs softly, but his heart hurts, remembering those first hours and days, when Daisy was so terrified and he was at his wits’ end.

“Just doin’ my job,” Jared says, but he reaches down to ruffle her fur. 

*

One night they’re cleaning up after dinner, putting dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters, and Jared says, “Are you free for dinner on Saturday?”

Jensen shrugs. “Don’t see why not.” He nudges Jared’s hip. “I’ve kind of gotten used to having dinner with you most nights; is there something special about Saturday? We going on another date?” He wouldn’t say no; he loves staying in with Jared, but there’s something exciting about the idea of going out, too.

“Sorta,” Jared says. “You remember I told you about my friends Sandy and Brian, right?”

“The ones who are getting married this fall--he’s the one in the band.”

“Right,” Jared says. “Well, they’ve been wanting to meet you for a while…”

“Yeah, we’re not so good about meeting each other’s loved ones, are we?” 

“No,” Jared admits. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen’s been meaning to reschedule dinner with Mac for a while now, but it hasn’t happened yet. She threw a fit when he first told her he was back with Jared, and though she’s calmed down since then, she’s still not a fan. Jensen didn’t feel like he could give her all the details--it isn’t his story to tell--so he just told her Jared had a good reason for what happened and that they’d worked things out. He’s confident that eventually things will smooth over and Mac will love Jared almost as much as he does. It’s going to take a while, though.

“Okay, so, Sandy and Brian,” Jensen says cautiously. “Dinner? It’s only dinner, right, not a gig or anything?” He’s doing a hell of a lot better, and if Jared wants him to hear Brian’s music he will, one of these days, but he needs it not to be a surprise.

“Dinner, just the four of us, at their place,” Jared says. “Though I should probably warn you, it’s my birthday, so Sandy may make everyone wear silly hats or something.”

“It’s your birthday?” Jensen says. “Way to bury the lede. Why didn’t I know this?”

Jared shrugs. “I don’t really celebrate my birthday, if I can help it,” he says. “The whole thing with my parents--it was my birthday when I told them.” He shakes his head. “Stupid kid. Turning 18, all grown up… anyway, that’s old news. Sandy says we make our own families, and I shouldn’t let the shit with my parents keep me from celebrating with the people who love me.”

“She’s right,” Jensen says. “Of course you should still celebrate. I mean, if you want to.”

Jared shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s no big deal either way. Anyhow, it’s easier to do it than deal with Sandy if I don’t.”

Jensen chuckles. “Sandy sounds like quite a spitfire. Should I be scared to meet her?”

“Nah,” Jared says. “She’s a sweetheart. And she knows how much I… care about you. It’ll be fine. And, heck, worst comes to worst, Brian’s the most easygoing guy I know. He’ll have your back.”

Jensen takes a breath. He’s still not excited about meeting new people, but he knows this is important to Jared. He looks around at the kitchen and all the little signs of Jared there--bananas in a bowl on the counter, when Jensen hates bananas; a spare key for Jared’s SUV, in case Jensen needs to move it; Daisy, curled up in the corner gnawing contentedly on a tiny bone. If this is important to Jared, it’s important to him. “Okay. So, your birthday, huh?”

Jared nods.

“Dinner with Sandy and Brian.”

Another nod. “Barbecue--good stuff, too. Don’t worry; Sandy’s not cooking, she’s getting takeout.”

“I gotta admit, I haven’t had good barbecue in a while,” Jensen says.

“Well, then, it’s settled,” Jared says, nuzzling Jensen’s ear.

“Will we be doing presents? I want to know what to expect, so I don’t look like a heel.”

Jared shrugs. “I honestly don’t care,” he says. “Like I said, I’m not that into birthdays. I wouldn’t celebrate at all if they didn’t make me. Sandy’ll give me something funny. Brian goes with the old standards, usually a good bottle of bourbon. I can’t say I mind that, much.”

“Okay,” Jensen says. “I’ll put on my thinking cap.” He rocks their hips together and bites at Jared’s jaw. “You staying for a while? Maybe you can give me some ideas for presents that I can’t give you in public.”

“Oh, now that is an idea I can _definitely_ get behind,” Jared says. “Hell, I’ll celebrate every day of the year if that’s the deal.” The kitchen is clean enough; Daisy has fresh water; they can head back to the bedroom. It’s early still, but that’s kind of the point--they can have some time to enjoy each other and still let Jared get home before it gets too late.

*

The birthday party is a rousing success. Jensen brings Sandy flowers and a copy of Wedding Planning for Dummies with a bow on it as a hostess gift, and she’s laughing before he even gets in the door. Brian’s the most laid-back guy ever, as advertised, and the barbecue is amazing--also as advertised. They eat until they’re stuffed--even tiny Sandy packs away a decent amount--and then relax in the living room, sipping drinks poured from the bottle that Brian “surprised” Jared with. It’s comfortable and low-key and Jensen is struck by how well Jason and Krista would have fit in with the group. His throat tightens up with grief, just for a moment, and he takes another swallow of bourbon and presses his thigh a little tighter against Jared’s. “You okay?” Jared murmurs, and Jensen nods. Jared had told him they could cut out early if Jensen wanted, but he’s having fun. He is. Jason’s gone, and there’s no changing that, but he’s here and Jared’s here and maybe the future isn’t so blank and empty after all. 

“So, what did _you_ give Jared for his birthday?” Sandy asks teasingly. “Or is it a secret?”

Jensen grins. “It is a secret, for now. But I expect you’ll find out eventually.” That gets raised eyebrows from both Sandy _and_ Jared--Brian apparently is too cool to be curious. Jensen doesn’t want to put Jared on the spot, though. He knows what he has in mind is a risk, but he thinks it’s going to work out fine.

When they get home, Jared plays innocent, but Jensen can tell he’s looking around for whatever it is that Jensen has waiting for him. Jensen lets him wonder for a few minutes, but he wants to get to the birthday-sex part of the night. “You’ll get your present tomorrow,” he tells Jared. “Though you do get a birthday blow job tonight, if you want.”

“If?” Jared asks. He pulls Jensen close for a long kiss. “Thank you for tonight,” he says. “It meant a lot to me to be able to introduce you to my friends. And I told you they’d love you.”

“They were very nice,” Jensen says. “We do need to get together with Mac soon, though. If I tell her I’ve met your friends but she still hasn’t met you… it won’t be pretty.”

“I know, I know,” Jared says. “Next week. You have lunch with her on Fridays, right? I’ll cut out from the dogs and join you. If you want.”

“That’d be great,” Jensen says. “I didn’t mean to bug you about it. Especially today. It’s your birthday. We can talk about my sister another time.”

“I have to say, between blow jobs and your sister, I know which one I pick,” Jared says. “Um, no offense.”

Jensen pokes him in the belly and steers him in the direction of the bedroom. “I’ll let Daisy out and meet you in bed.”

He delivers on the blow job, plus a back massage that ends up with his face buried between Jared’s cheeks and Jared cursing blissfully into his pillow. After that, it only takes Jensen a few strokes before he’s coming into his own hand.

“So, tomorrow, huh?” Jared asks, as they lie curled together, drifting toward sleep. 

“Yup,” Jensen says.

“Couldn’t get your act together to be on time?”

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. I’m-not-even-going-to-tell-you-it’s-my-birthday.”

Jared huffs a laugh, and pulls Jensen a little closer. “I don’t need any more presents,” he says. “I’ve got everything I need, right here.”

*

Jensen had--with relatively little difficulty--talked Jared into taking the next morning off, so he lets him sleep in and goes to make pancakes and eggs for breakfast. After that, Jared is all for going back to bed, which Jensen would normally encourage. Today he has other plans, though. He suggests they take Daisy out for a walk, then does some fast talking to explain why they need to stop by an unfamiliar house on the way. Luckily, it’s a beautiful day, unseasonably cool--which in Florida in July simply means fit for human habitation--and Jared is in one of those moods where he’s happy just to be with Jensen so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

“Oh, hi, Jensen,” the pixyish woman who answers the door says. “Hi, Daisy. And this must be Jared. Nice to meet you; I’m Kim. C’mon in.” Once inside, they’re immediately greeted by a young, slim shepherd mix who can’t seem to decide if she should be excited or afraid. She trots up to them, snuffles at Jared briefly, then dances back a few steps before approaching again. 

“Aw, who’s this?” Jared asks, immediately crouching down to meet the newcomer. “Hi, pretty girl. It’s okay.”

Kim nods to Jensen and disappears into another room, and after another few seconds convincing the dog to come to him for petting, Jared looks to Jensen to see what’s going on. 

“So,” Jensen says, “this is Sadie. She’s a rescue; she was abandoned by people who were moving and didn’t have room for her at their new place. Kim’s been fostering her for a while now, getting her ready for a forever home.”

Jared’s expression turns sad, but he just pets Sadie again. “Well, she shouldn’t have any trouble with that--what a little beauty she is. A little underweight, but she looks healthy, and pretty well socialized.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “She’s a real sweetheart. And she’s super gentle with Daisy. Look, she’s not aggressive at all.” He lets Daisy come closer, and she and Sadie sniff each other happily, tails wagging.

“Wow,” Jared says. “That’s awesome. Daisy’s not afraid at all, and--honestly, I would have thought you wouldn’t want her anywhere near a bigger dog, after what happened. At least until she finishes healing.”

Jensen clears his throat. “Yeah, well. I was a little concerned about that, but they really seemed to hit it off.”

“They sure did,” Jared says. “Look, they’re playing.”

Sure enough, Sadie is doing a little dance, head crouched down over her front paws, butt wiggling in the air, bouncing forward toward Daisy and then back away, and Daisy is bounding around like she’s on springs. Her shaved patches, still growing back, make her look even more clownish than usual.

“Um… this is probably a little out of line, but have you thought at all about getting another dog?” Jared asks, with some hesitation. “I wouldn’t have pushed you, seeing as you didn’t realize you wanted Daisy in the first place, but… look at the two of them together. You’ve done amazing things with Daisy, don’t get me wrong--and of course I’m happy to bring one of the dogs I’m working with over now and then, when I have one that’s sure to be safe with smaller animals--but it might be good for her to have a canine friend around more of the time.”

Jensen huffs a short laugh, his heart racing. “Funny you should ask…” This is a big leap of faith, but he thinks maybe it’s time for both of them to let go of the past and move forward. He’d been hoping the penny might drop and he wouldn’t have to say much--or anything--more, but that probably wasn’t realistic. “I wasn’t thinking about Sadie for _me_ ,” he says. “Or, not only for me, anyway.” 

Jared looks at him, then at Sadie, then back to him, and Jensen makes himself spell it out. “I hadn’t planned this--well, at all, but certainly not this soon,” he says. “Still, I was thinking… I know no dog is ever going to replace Harley, but maybe it’s been long enough, and since Daisy and I are home most of the time anyway she’d have plenty of company when you’re working if you don’t want her with you there, and Mac had mentioned that Kim was fostering this really gentle dog, and then it was your birthday all of a sudden, so I thought…” He stops a second to catch his breath and try to get his thoughts in order. 

“You want _me_ to--” Jared blinks. “Wait--this is my birthday present? This was the surprise you talked about last night?”

Jensen nods, biting his lip. This could have been a big mistake. “You don’t have to take her,” he says quickly. “I didn’t make any promises--I wouldn’t do that to you, or to her. I told Kim we hadn’t talked about it yet and the final decision was yours. If you’re sure you don’t want a dog of your own--or if you’re not sure you _do_ \--Kim will keep Sadie as long as it takes to find her the right person. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you.”

Jared stands up, and Jensen isn’t sure what comes next. It could be great; it could be awful. Sadie won his heart the first time he met her, but Jared’s used to handling lots of dogs all the time and not getting too attached to any of them. And maybe Jared really will never want another dog of his own. 

Jared steps up to Jensen, glancing quickly over at where the dogs are still playing together. “You want us to--you want Sadie to be _ours_?”

Jensen nods. “I mean--yours. Like Daisy’s mine. But we could, y’know. Share?”

Jared puts his hands on Jensen’s hips and rests his forehead against Jensen’s. “That’s a big commitment,” he says. “Are you sure we’re ready for it?”

Jensen shrugs, and answers honestly. “No,” he says. “But… I don’t know if I’ll ever be sure. Things I was sure of six months ago turned out to be wrong… maybe sometimes you can’t wait to be sure. You just have to try.”

Jared’s lips brush his, and Jensen wants to open up for him, lose himself in Jared and never come out. But they’re in someone else’s home, and they have a big decision to make. Jared has a big decision to make.

“She is awfully pretty,” Jared says. “And quite a lady. She’ll be messier than Daisy, though. You okay with that in your place?”

Jensen nods. He’s not excited about dog hair all over everything, but it probably isn’t the worst thing in the world. “You’ve gotta share pooper-scooper duty, though,” he says. “I’ve gotten used to Daisy’s little teeny ones, but Sadie’s a lot bigger.”

Jared laughs. “Fair enough. If I were squeamish about that, I’d be in a different line of work.”

“Then yeah,” Jensen says. “I can deal with the mess. Does that--are you--is that a yes?”

Jared smiles, slowly but with increasing confidence. “If you and Daisy vote yes, how could I say no?” He crouches down again, holding a hand out, and Sadie comes to him willingly. “Do you want to come home with us, pretty girl?” he asks, and laughs when she puts her nose in his face. “I think that’s a yes.” 

Jensen squats down, too, so he can get in on the affection. Jared ruffles Sadie’s floppy ears with one hand, and pulls Jensen closer with the other. “Best birthday ever,” he murmurs.

And Jensen finds himself saying, “Just wait till next year.” He’s not even sure what he means, exactly, but in that moment he believes that he and Jared--and Daisy and Sadie--will be together this time next year, and the years after that. And that no matter how good he feels right now, with Jared’s arm around him, this is only the beginning.

***


End file.
